


looking for a rhythm like you

by superhoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Castiel Makes Bad Decisions, Dean is the well-adjusted one for once, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Rich Castiel, Rimming, Stripper Dean, Stripping-Related Harassment, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney
Summary: Castiel Novak had it all: good looks, a fast car, and a family fortune that meant he never had to work a day in his life. Some would say there was more to life than those things, but Castiel never cared to find out-- not until he met Dean.Dean, who came into Castiel’s life in a flurry of flashing lights, pounding bass, and sweat-slicked skin. He was challenging, charming, and completely, utterly captivating.If only Castiel hadn’t made such a terrible first impression.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I finally wrote a stripper fic. It feels like a rite of passage, somehow. Thank you to Anna for being my alpha-beta-whatever reader, to Ri for providing the Air Supply lyrics for the title, and to everyone else who offered suggestions and advice along the way. 
> 
> A few notes:
> 
> -This fic is entirely written. It is 10 chapters and just shy of 60k words. It will be updated on a weekly-ish basis. 
> 
> -It's mostly fluffy, but there are some people who get presumptuous with Dean when he's doing his stripper thing. Nothing too graphic or traumatic for Dean. 
> 
> -Cas is perhaps not the way you might expect him to be in this, especially at first. I was working with an image of early seasons Castiel, who's much colder and more distant than the Cas we see in more recent episodes. But don't worry: as always, he grows to love humanity (ie. Dean) and softens up considerably.

Another night, another party.

Castiel sighed and looked around the room, less than impressed with the flashing lights and the barely-clothed bodies moving in time with the music pumping through the top-of-the-line speakers. It was nothing he hadn’t seen a thousand times before. Balthazar’s parties were consistently great, because his parties were all exactly the same. 

The novelty had worn off for Castiel at least a year ago, but he didn’t have anything better to do tonight, and Balthazar was his only real friend. Though he hadn’t even seen him in the hour since he’d arrived. 

Draining the last of his snooty microbrew, Cas pushed his way through the crowd, not stopping to dance despite the many murmured invitations thrown his way. Everyone at these parties was undoubtedly attractive, and Castiel’s tastes were varied, but they all had a sameness to them that bored him. 

He checked a few of the rooms on the main floor and found no sign of Balthazar. With another deep sigh, he made a stop at the well-stocked bar, switching to a gin and tonic, heavy on the gin. The bartender was a dark-haired young woman who kept giving him sly looks from under her long lashes, and the glimpse of a tattoo under her left ear piqued Castiel’s interest somewhat, but not enough. He tipped her well, though. It wasn’t her fault that he felt so far removed from the scene around him.

He could hear different music drifting down from the upper level of the enormous house, so he carefully maneuvered around the couple sprawled in a sloppy embrace at the base of the stairs and made his way upstairs. There were fewer guests here, and the air was less thick with the scents of perfume and alcohol. Cas took another swallow of his drink and pointedly ignored the closed doors. He knew exactly what people got up to in the bedrooms at Balthazar’s parties and felt no desire to witness it first-hand.

At the end of the hall was a large, airy room that looked out over the meticulously maintained back gardens. The door was partially ajar, and Castiel determined that it was the source of the music. He entered, and though his aim had been to locate Balthazar, he was immediately distracted by the performer on the stage at the front of the room.

The dancer was a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, a few years younger than Castiel himself. He was wearing nothing but a bright red G-string, his golden skin shimmering with sweat under the lights. Judging by the number of bills scattered across the stage, he had been dancing for some time already. Castiel found himself upset he had missed the rest of the performance.

“Castiel!” a loud voice came from somewhere to his left. A heavy arm dropped across his shoulders, and he looked over to see Balthazar grinning at him, his face flushed with wine. “I was wondering when you would make an appearance!”

“I’ve been here for an hour,” Castiel replied coolly, sliding out from under his friend’s arm. “You simply couldn’t be bothered to play the good host and meet me at the door.”

“Yes, well, you found me eventually.” Balthazar waved a dismissive hand. “You’ve got a drink? Good. Finish it, then get another one.”

Castiel took his advice, and then the glass of champagne that Balthazar pressed into his hand, keeping his eyes on the stage the entire time. “You hired dancers,” he said, striving to keep his tone neutral. “That’s new.”

“They came highly recommended,” his friend said. “And they certainly haven’t disappointed so far. The last girl, Castiel, you should have seen the legs on her…”

Castiel was too busy watching another set of legs-- with a charming outward curve to them-- to really pay attention to Balthazar’s increasingly graphic description of the previous dancer. He drifted closer to the stage, the crowd parting easily for him as it always did. They all knew his name and his face, and they would never dream of offering insult to a Novak. 

When he was as close to the stage as he could possibly get, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a crisp hundred dollar bill. He reached out and carefully tucked it into the side of the dancer’s G-string, not letting his movement turn into a caress despite his desire to do exactly that. He had to control himself.

The dancer dropped into a squat, bringing his face level with Castiel’s, finally giving him a chance to get a good look at his features. They were as stunning as the rest of him: plush lips, sparkling green eyes, and a faint dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. The dancer winked at him, and then stood back up with enviable grace as the song finished.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Balthazar said, having followed him up to the front of the room.

Castiel turned in annoyance. The only person he was interested in meeting was the man who had just left the stage. “Not now, Bal,” he said, his voice tight.

But by the time he turned back to the stage, it was empty, and there was no sign of the dancer among the guests in the room.

“Damnit,” he muttered under his breath. He would have liked the chance to find out what that man’s voice sounded like. Preferably while whispering filthy things into his ear. Castiel finished the last of his champagne and handed the empty flute to Balthazar. “I need to take a piss,” he said, making his escape before Balthazar could protest.

The advantage to having known Balthazar for so many years was that Castiel also knew all the rooms in his huge house by heart. Instead of waiting for the main bathroom like everyone else, he made his way to the smaller one tucked into the corner of the hall and locked the door behind him.

He splashed cold water on his face, running his hands through his dark hair. He examined himself in the mirror critically. He looked good, he thought. His black button-up was open at the throat and fit closely to the lines of his body, as did his ridiculously expensive dark jeans. He never had any difficulty finding a willing partner to spend the night with, and not only because his family was rich. He had his own charms, or so he liked to believe.

He could go back downstairs, join the throng of bodies on the dance floor, let people press into his space and enjoy the warmth of their bodies against his. Give someone an inviting tilt of his head, call his driver, take them back to his impressively large house, maybe even get them off in the back of the car before they even made it home. It wouldn’t be the first time his night ended that way. 

But it just didn’t hold the same appeal it normally would. Castiel had been feeling out of sorts since before he saw the dancer, but now…

He sighed again and practiced his smile in the mirror a few times. There were hundreds of people here. There was a statistical likelihood that he would find someone else to spark his desire, even if not to the same degree.

“Get it together, Novak,” he said to his reflection. “You’re young. You’re good-looking. You’re incredibly wealthy. So why don’t you fucking act like it and have some goddamn fun.”

He pulled the door open with more force than was strictly necessary and strode out into the hallway with renewed purpose. He passed a few closed doors, ignoring the moans and cries he heard from within, heading back towards the stairs. 

Just before he reached them, however, he stopped short at the sight in front of him. The dancer who had taken over his thoughts was standing with his back to the wall, still wearing nothing but that flimsy excuse for underwear, arms crossed protectively over his bare chest. Pressed close to his side was a woman Castiel recognized from other parties of Balthazar’s. Amara, he thought her name was. 

At first, he was disappointed to see the dancer with a woman, thinking it was less likely he would have a chance with him. But as he walked past, intent on minding his own business, he took in exactly what Amara was saying.

“I felt a connection to you the minute I saw you,” she practically purred. 

Castiel’s lip curled in distaste at her awful pick-up line, but it was the dancer’s reply that stopped him in his tracks.

“That’s great, lady, but I’m not interested.” His voice was deep and smooth, and his tone was firm. But Amara didn’t seem to care.

“There’s no need to pretend,” she said. She extended a hand and placed it against the man’s chest, her nails almost exactly the same shade of red as his G-string. “Or do. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Not a hooker,” the man replied, removing her hand from his chest. “And still not interested.”

Amara didn’t seem deterred, so Castiel figured it was about time he stepped in. He placed a hand on her shoulder and attempted to steer her away. “Leave him alone,” he said, keeping his voice steady so as not to upset her. “There are plenty of other pretty boys for you to sink those claws into.”

She barely glanced at him. “Back off, Novak. I found him first.”

“That’s not really how this works,” the man protested. 

“You know who I am, then,” Castiel said to Amara. “Good. Then you also know that I can have you banned from these parties with just a word to my dear friend, our host. And from any other function worth attending in this town. So I’ll repeat myself: leave him alone.”

Amara scowled at him, but she slowly stepped back, casting a longing glance at the dancer as she walked away.

Once she was out of sight, Castiel turned to face the other man. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly. 

“Are you sure?” It couldn’t hurt to play up his concern, Castiel figured. “That seemed unpleasant.”

The other man looked up at him and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m not some damsel in distress, man.”

Caught off guard by his lack of fawning, Castiel snorted inelegantly. “She had you backed against the wall.”

“Yeah, because it was that or have her start screaming and get me kicked out without being paid,” he shot back. “You think I could last a week at this gig if I didn’t know how to handle people getting a little bit intense?”

“Fair enough,” Castiel allowed. “Nevertheless. Can I get you a drink? Something to take the edge off.”

“Thanks, man, but really--” A look of recognition passed over the dancer’s face. “Hey, wait, I know you. You’re the guy who slipped me a hundred while I was dancing.”

Pleased to have made an impression on him, Castiel smiled, putting as much charm into it as he could manage. “Yes,” he said simply. “Castiel Novak.”

He extended his hand, and the other man took it after a second’s hesitation. “Dean Smith.”

Probably not his real name, but Castiel didn’t really care. If he used it while performing, he would likely respond to it fairly easily. “So, Dean, about that drink…”

“I think I’d better just be heading home,” Dean said. He grimaced as he said it, but Castiel couldn’t tell if his regret was genuine.

“Let me take you, then,” he offered smoothly. “My driver can be here in five minutes.” Maybe his night could still turn out the way he hoped, with he and Dean tangled together in the backseat.

“That’s fine. I took my own car here.” Dean smiled tightly and started to move away.

Castiel’s hand shot out as if to stop him, but he caught himself before making contact, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air between them. 

“What the fuck, man,” Dean spat, twisting away. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said hurriedly, holding his hands up in front of him, trying to salvage the situation. “I just...I saw you, earlier, dancing, and I wanted to talk to you, but my friend distracted me, and then…”

“And then you saw the way that chick was pawing at me and decided to step in and try to play hero, all to make yourself look better!” Dean’s anger lent a flush to his cheeks that somehow managed to make him look even more attractive. “You’re no better than her, treating me like a prize to be won instead of like a person.”

“I didn’t mean to--” Castiel protested, but Dean held up a hand to stop him, his face set in angry lines. 

“Say one more word, and I will punch you right in that slimy face of yours,” he threatened. “You think you can do whatever you want cause you’ve got money and connections or whatever bullshit you were spouting off earlier, but buddy, I don’t care. Save it for someone else.”

“It wasn’t bullshit,” Castiel fired back. His ability to think rationally had flown out the window some time ago. “I can tell Balthazar never to hire you again. See how that goes for you.”

He would never do such a thing, of course, but his wounded pride insisted that he not let Dean get the last word.

“You’re a piece of work,” Dean told him through gritted teeth. “I almost feel bad for you. Enjoy the rest of your party, asshole. I hope the next person you charm into sucking you off uses too much teeth.”

Shoulders squared and head held high, Dean walked away. And if Castiel was too transfixed by the sway of his perfect ass to form an adequate reply, well, who could blame him?

At the sound of a familiar chuckle, Castiel turned to see Balthazar leaning in the doorway nearby, taking in the scene with lazy amusement. “Oh, Cassie, he told you off well and good, didn’t he?”

Castiel bit his lip and walked over, snatching the glass of champagne out of his friend’s hand, irritated that he had a witness to his crushing shame. “I just wanted to get to know him,” he muttered.

“And by that you mean you wanted to get to know exactly what he sounds like when he comes,” Balthazar said. “I know you, Castiel. It’s always the same: some pretty little thing catches your eye for the night, and then you get bored with them and move on to the next one. He’s no different.”

Castiel took a large sip of the champagne and shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Bal. There is something different about him. Something that made me want to get to know him for real. But I blew it. Spectacularly so. I didn’t even get a chance to really apologize.”

“Well, I wouldn’t advise chasing after him. I think he was quite serious when he threatened to hit you, and by the looks of those arms of his, it would hurt quite a bit.”

Balthazar probably had a point. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Castiel knew that the smart thing to do would be to let Dean go. 

“However,” Balthazar said with a mischievous lilt to his voice, “I do happen to know where he works. I’d suggest preparing your apology in advance, though. Since you seem to have difficulty keeping yourself under control around him.”

Castiel made a noise of agreement. “That sounds like a good plan.”

Even if Dean (or whatever his real name was) never gave him a second chance, Castiel did feel guilty about the way he had acted. He needed to at least try to make things right.

***

Castiel waited three days before attempting to track Dean down. After all, wasn’t that the conventional amount of time to wait before reaching out to someone you’d just recently met and wanted to pursue? Not that he had any real hope of a relationship with Dean at this point, whether romantic or sexual or even platonic.

Balthazar had slipped him a business card as he left his house that Saturday night. It was surprisingly simple, the name The Diamond Lounge spelled out in curling script, with the club’s phone number, address, and website listed below. 

Castiel didn’t recognize the name, which wasn’t surprising, really. He didn’t make a point of visiting many clubs anymore, preferring the parties hosted by his friends. If he did indulge, it was generally on a trip to another city. He wondered what kind of place The Diamond Lounge was. The only thing he knew for sure was that the talent was impressive. 

He couldn’t even be sure Dean would be there on a Tuesday night. He considered calling the club to find out, but he was smart enough to know that such a move would be rightly interpreted as creepy and that he wouldn’t get an answer. Most businesses wouldn’t tell random strangers their employees’ schedules over the phone, and particularly not businesses that lent themselves so easily to those strangers getting too attached to their employees. 

The whole point of this trip was to show Dean that he was sorry and that he could be a decent person. The best way to do so was to go in with no expectations and hope for the best.

He was almost ready to leave when his phone rang. Castiel glanced at it in irritation, ready to decline the call, but when he saw that it was his brother calling, he sighed and raised the phone to his ear. “Hello, Gabriel.”

“Don’t sound so happy to see me,” his older brother said. “What are you doing right now?”

“I’m just on my way out,” Castiel said evasively. “Why? Are you in town?”

Gabriel had moved to Los Angeles almost ten years before, but he had an annoying habit of dropping in on Castiel unannounced. As irritating as it was, it was also by far the most interest any of his family members showed in him, so Castiel had learned to live with his brother’s unpredictability. 

“I’m on my way to your place. Wait for me.” Before Castiel could even reply, his brother ended the call.

He sighed and slid his phone back into his pocket. He would have to explain to Gabriel why he was going to a strip club on a Tuesday night, and Gabriel would definitely tease him mercilessly about his giant fuck-up the other night. On the other hand, having his brother with him would look a lot less creepy if Dean did give him the chance to apologize. It might even reassure him that Castiel was in earnest and not just trying to charm his way into bed with him again. 

The late May nights were warm enough in Kansas that Castiel didn’t bother with a jacket. He pushed the sleeves of his soft navy shirt up to his elbows and ran his hands through his hair one last time, then went down to wait for Gabriel at the door.

It only took about ten minutes for his brother to arrive. Castiel smiled despite himself and allowed Gabriel to hug him, returning the embrace with slightly less enthusiasm. “So, where are we going?” Gabriel asked once they separated, sweeping over Castiel with a curious glance. “You look good, but not particularly fancy.”

Castiel motioned to his housekeeper, Hannah, who had been hovering in the foyer, and indicated that she should take Gabriel’s bags up to his usual room. He smiled at her and then turned his attention back to his brother.

“We,” he announced, “are going to a strip club.”

Instead of the excited applause he expected, his statement was met with incredulous silence.

“What?” Castiel said. “I thought you would be thrilled.”

“Oh, I am,” Gabriel said slowly. “But that’s not your usual scene these days, is it? I remember you telling me about it the last time we were in Vegas. How little it excites you anymore.”

His brother wasn’t wrong. He had said exactly that. Castiel sighed. “I know. I’ll explain on the way.”

Once they were comfortably seated and Castiel had given the driver the address, Gabriel reached for the bottle of whiskey and poured a measure for both of them. “Okay, explain.”

Castiel took the drink, wondering where to begin. “I was at a party at Balthazar’s on Saturday,” he said. “And there was a dancer there.”

“Okay,” Gabriel said blankly. “So you banged them, and now what? We’re going to see them perform again?”

Castiel shook his head, frustrated. “No, I didn’t bang him, as you so crudely put it. I wanted to. Obviously. You’ll understand when--if--you see him. But I messed up, royally.”

“What, you told him your kinky fantasies a little too early and he got spooked? Happens to the best of us.”

Despite himself, Castiel laughed at that. “I didn’t even get a chance to tell him all the horrible, wonderful things I wanted to do with him,” he complained. “Some lady was basically propositioning him, and I thought I could make a good impression by swooping in, but he didn’t take too kindly to my rescue attempt.”

“A strong, independent man,” Gabriel said approvingly. “I like him already.”

“And then I made it even worse,” Castiel admitted, taking a large gulp of his drink.

“Judgement-free zone,” Gabriel declared. “Spill.”

“I tried to offer him a ride home, and he refused, and it...escalated,” Castiel said quietly. “You know I don’t handle myself well in confrontational situations. He was about to storm off and I didn’t even think about it, just threw my hand out to stop him…”

Gabriel groaned. “Castiel, wasn’t that one of the first things I ever taught you? You do not touch the strippers. That’s like, their number one rule.”

“I know,” Castiel snapped, then slumped against the seat, defeated. “I know. I don’t know what came over me. I stopped myself in time, but he definitely took note. He was furious, and rightfully so. But instead of backing off, I made some horrible remark about having him blacklisted from performing at Balthazar’s parties. I think I feel the worst about that, honestly. Threatening his livelihood…”

“Major dick move.” Gabriel nodded. “You really weren’t kidding about this being a royal fuck-up. But I still don’t really understand why we’re going to his place of employment now. You know this just makes you look creepier, don’t you?”

That was exactly what Castiel feared. “I just want to apologize,” he said stubbornly. “I don’t even know if he’ll be there. Maybe I can just leave him a note.”

Gabriel stared at him for a few seconds, his expression quizzical. “You never feel this bad about anything,” he said after a moment. “Hell, you never think about anyone for this long. You screw up, you move on, you forget about it.”

“I know.” And maybe that was why Castiel was so nervous. This behaviour was entirely unlike him. “I’m not accustomed to caring what people think of me. It’s never mattered before. But I don’t want him to think I’m just another creep. I can’t even explain why.”

“He must be something special.”

“I think he is,” Castiel said. Maybe it was just the fact that Dean had been the only thing to hold his interest that night. Or maybe it was just pride.

The car rolled to a stop, and Castiel twisted to look out the window. “I think we’ve arrived.”

“Awesome.” Gabriel bounded out of the car and pulled the door to the club open. “Let’s do this before you lose your nerve.”

Castiel took a deep breath and followed his brother into the club.

The interior was nicer than he anticipated, less tawdry and more classy. It was fairly quiet, probably because it was the middle of the week, and the hostess who greeted them was quite beautiful in a classical way. “Welcome to The Diamond Lounge,” she said, giving them a slight smile. “Tuesdays are a mixed night, with many of our popular dancers performing. Please, take a seat, and a server will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Castiel managed to say before Gabriel dragged him to a small round table at the front of the room, though thankfully off to the side so it wasn’t directly in front of the stage.

The music was just coming to an end, the dancer sliding into her final pose to appreciative applause as Castiel and Gabriel took their seats. As promised, a server came around to take their drink orders, and Castiel looked around the room with interest. It didn’t look like an entirely terrible place to work. It was clean, the other customers were enthusiastic without being too rowdy, and none of the staff had the beaten-down expressions he’d seen all too often in other establishments like this.

“So, we’re just going to wait and see if your boy turns up?” Gabriel asked.

“I suppose so,” Castiel replied. “I could ask someone, but that wouldn’t look good, I don’t think.”

“So you do have some awareness of what’s considered proper behaviour,” his brother teased. “You just...forget it, sometimes.”

“Precisely.”

The music began again, and Castiel straightened in his seat, hoping it might be Dean who appeared on stage. Instead, it was a slender young man with a sweet face, dressed all in white. He was adorable, undoubtedly, but not at all Castiel’s type. 

“Please tell me that’s not him,” Gabriel muttered. 

“It’s not him,” Castiel said flatly. This was a terrible idea. Dean could have already performed, or simply not been scheduled tonight. He took a sip of his gin and tonic, noting that it was quite well-made, and then another. The sooner they finished their drinks, the sooner they could make their undignified retreat. 

“This is stupid,” he grumbled. “I’m stupid.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Gabriel said, clapping him on the back. “You said some stupid shit, sure. But you’re trying to do the right thing here. That’s sweet….even if it is kind of stupid.”

Castiel was barely paying attention to the dancer onstage, but he did take notice when the song ended and the young man made his final bow to the crowd. Maybe, just maybe…

He thought he recognized the song that started playing next, but he wasn’t sure until he saw the silhouette of the next dancer against the dark curtains onstage. He’d recognize the curve of those legs anywhere.

He elbowed Gabriel sharply. “That’s him,” he hissed.

They both watched raptly as Dean took to the stage, dressed in a suit and tie, his hair slicked back and...dear Lord, were those suspenders? Castiel groaned, and Gabriel gave him a sympathetic look.

“Yeah, I see the appeal,” he commented. “He’s definitely attractive.”

“Just wait until you see what’s under that outfit,” Castiel replied absently, eyes still fixed on the stage. 

It didn’t take long for Dean to start peeling off his clothes. He played with the red suspenders, teasingly snapping them against his body, and Castiel’s mouth practically watered at the sight. But he shook off his lecherous thoughts and ran through the apology he had rehearsed in his mind, reminding himself why he was there. 

It was difficult to think about apologizing when Dean was shaking his hips in nothing but that damned red G-string again. All Castiel wanted to do was get his hands on every inch of his tanned skin. 

Dean’s broad shoulders swayed to the rhythm of the song as he danced. His form wasn’t as practiced as that of the previous dancer, but he more than made up for it with his charisma. He licked his lips and winked at the crowd, who went wild for him, and when he turned around and dropped nearly to the ground, showcasing the strong muscles in his thighs, Castiel thought he might have a heart attack. 

Fortunately for Castiel’s sanity, the dance ended fairly quickly and Dean slid to the floor of the stage, stretched out on his side and winking at the crowd. From this angle, though, he had a clearer view of the right side of the room, where Castiel and Gabriel were seated. There was a flash of surprise across his face before it turned to distaste that was quickly clamped down, and then Dean looked away, back towards the centre of the room and the hands reaching up to toss crumpled bills at him.

“Fuck,” Castiel muttered.

“What?” Gabriel asked. “Got a little situation in the trousers?”

“No,” Castiel said sharply. “He saw me.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him. “He was going to see you eventually. That was kind of the point, no?”

“Yes, but…” A hand on his shoulder interrupted Castiel’s train of thought. He turned to see a very large, broad-shouldered man staring at him with a decidedly unfriendly look on his face.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” the man said. Belatedly, Castiel noticed that the security badge pinned to his shirt. 

“Listen,” Gabriel said soothingly, “we don’t want any trouble.”

“Neither do we,” the security guard replied. “So like I said, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Castiel glanced around the room and froze when he saw Dean standing off to the side of the stage, watching them with his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. The same way he had been standing when Amara had been harassing him the other night. 

Fuck. Castiel was such a creep. Dean was probably freaking out right now, thinking he had a stalker. And he wouldn’t be wrong to assume so.

“I’m not putting up a fight,” he said to the security guard. “I really just wanted to talk to Dean for a moment. You and my brother can stay right here the entire time. Please. Would you just ask him if he’d be comfortable with that?”

The guard scowled at him, but walked away to confer with Dean, who was still watching the scene unfold with interest. They talked for a few minutes, and though they were too far away for Castiel to overhear them, he could tell by Dean’s dramatic gestures that they were arguing. Finally, the guard threw his hands up in defeat, grabbed a dark hoodie from some secret hideaway behind the stage, and tossed it over Dean’s shoulders.

Then Dean was walking towards them, his mouth set in a hard line. The security guard hung back, but it was obvious that he was watching them closely.

“What the hell are you doing here,” Dean said through gritted teeth. “And don’t try to tell me it’s a coincidence, because I’m not buying that for a second.”

“You’re right,” Castiel said, taking a deep breath. “It isn’t a coincidence. I came to find you. Balthazar told me where you worked.”

Dean snorted. “Of course he did,” he muttered darkly. “And who’s this? Your boyfriend? Trying to take me home to spice things up a bit or what?”

He gave Gabriel an unimpressed look, which made Gabriel laugh.

“Yeah, no, I’m his brother,” he clarified. “And I’m gonna go wait by the doors. This is all you, Cas.”

Castiel watched helplessly as Gabriel walked away, leaving him alone with Dean.

“So?” Dean prompted. “Are you here to threaten me again? Trying to get me fired or something?”

Castiel winced, but there was no doubt he deserved that comment. “No,” he said quietly. “I...shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Lots of things you shouldn’t have said or done, but you did,” Dean pointed out. “Is this one of them?”

“I don’t know yet,” Castiel said, finally daring to meet his eyes. “I suppose that depends on you.”

Dean looked momentarily confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I wanted to apologize,” Castiel said, tripping over the words. “I was having a bad night, and the way I acted was completely disrespectful, and you have every right to be upset with me. I just...needed to tell you that, I suppose.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “You told me. Now what?”

Castiel didn’t know how to proceed. He’d said what he came here to say, and he sort of expected Dean to have a stronger reaction, whether positive or negative. But he was still standing there with his arms crossed, an expectant look on his face. 

So Castiel reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet, withdrawing a hundred-dollar bill and extending it towards Dean. “Please, take it.”

Dean just stared at him. “For what?”

“For the trouble?” Castiel said hesitantly. No one had ever refused money from him before. “For the dance tonight, if nothing else?”

Dean shook his head slowly from side to side. “Unbelievable,” he said under his breath.

“Please,” Castiel repeated. “Just take it.”

“I don’t need your money!” Dean’s voice was raised, and the security guard took a menacing step towards them before Dean waved him off. “Look, it’s cool that you came here because you felt bad about being mean to the poor stripper, okay? And yeah, we all have our bad days, I’ll give you that. But buddy, for Christ’s sake, if you came here to apologize-- you haven’t actually done it yet, you know.”

Castiel started to protest, but the words died in his throat. He replayed their conversation in his mind, and was shocked to realize Dean was right. He had declared that his intent was to say he was sorry, but he hadn’t actually _said it_.

Much to his surprise, Dean laughed. It was more disbelief than amusement, but it was still a beautiful sound, and at least he wasn’t yelling at Castiel anymore.

It gave Castiel the boost of courage he required. He squared his shoulders and looked up to meet Dean’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. He hoped he could hear the sincerity in his voice. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did towards you at the party the other night. Or tonight, for that matter. I really did just want to talk to you, but I went about it all the wrong way, and I have a bit of a temper, as you probably noticed…anyways, I truly am sorry. I won’t bother you again.”

There was the barest hint of a smile on Dean’s lips. “Now, you see, was that so hard?”

“Yes, actually,” Castiel said with a grimace. 

“Must be nice, never having to apologize for being an asshole,” Dean said contemplatively. 

“It is one of the perks of being incredibly wealthy, yes,” Castiel agreed, before realizing quite how terribly arrogant that sounded. He was about to apologize again, but to his surprise, Dean laughed again, and this time it sounded genuine.

“Man, that’s the most honest thing you’ve said to me since we met,” he said.

Castiel felt a smile creep onto his own face. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, it is.”

There was a charged silence between them, but then it was broken by a low cough from the security guard.

“Shit,” Dean said. “That’s Benny’s signal that I’ve gotta get back. Got another dance coming up soon. You staying?”

Was that an invitation? Castiel didn’t think so. In fact, it was much more likely that it was a test. 

“No,” he said carefully. “I said what I came here to say. I meant it. I won’t bother you again.”

Dean nodded once, approvingly. “Maybe there’s hope for you after all. Little advice, buddy? Try using your words instead of your money more often. You’d be surprised how much more effective they can be.”

And then he turned away, pulling off his hoodie as he went, leaving Castiel staring at his uncovered back, unable to think of anything to say.

He stumbled back to the club’s entrance in a bit of a daze. Gabriel, who had been flirting with the hostess, excused himself from the conversation and came to join him, peering up at his face.

“Doesn’t look like you got punched,” Gabriel said. “So it must have gone reasonably well, then.”

“I suppose so,” Castiel agreed. 

“All is forgiven?”

That was an interesting question. Dean hadn’t actually said the words, but Castiel had detected a note of forgiveness in his parting words. “Maybe?” he said to Gabriel. “I’m not sure. But I’ve made my apology, and like you said, I didn’t get punched. So I think we’ll call it a success.”

“Fantastic!” Gabriel exclaimed. “Now that the situation has been handled, let’s go find somewhere to eat. I’m starving.”

Castiel cast one last longing look back towards the stage before allowing Gabriel to pull him out of the club and into the waiting car. 

It was done. He would probably never see Dean again, since he had no intention of returning here, despite the fact that he wanted to do so with every fibre of his being. But there was no point. 

He would just have to resign himself to the fact that he would never find out what all that glorious skin of Dean’s felt like against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely cover for this fic was made for me by my dear A_Diamond. Isn't it gorgeous???


	2. Chapter 2

Dean adjusted the volume on his stereo as he strolled into his tiny kitchen, knowing exactly how loud he could have the music set without prompting a noise complaint from their cranky neighbours. It was a bright Thursday morning, and he wanted pancakes.

He had just finished flipping the first batch when Sam stumbled out of his bedroom, blinking owlishly at him. “Dean, you know it’s like, 7:30, right?”

“And your alarm goes off at 7:39, because you’re a giant weirdo who can’t set it at normal times,” Dean replied, keeping his attention on the pan in front of him. “And I’m making your grumpy ass pancakes. So I think you should be more gracious.”

Sam mumbled something incoherent and slammed the bathroom door behind him. Dean just shook his head and reached for another mug, pouring coffee into it and setting it on the table. Kids these days.

He leaned against the counter, sipping from his own mug of coffee and munching on his (delicious) pancakes. It took only a few minutes for Sam to emerge from the bathroom, face freshly scrubbed and mood improved about two hundred percent. “Thanks, Dean,” he said as he sat down at the table and reached for his coffee.

“No problem, Sammy.” As soon as the next batch of pancakes was done, Dean deftly transferred them to a plate and served them to his brother. “What’s on the agenda today?”

Sam took a few bites before answering. “Dunno yet. Jody hasn’t left me any frantic messages, so I’m assuming it was a slow night.”

“Yeah, they’re starting to depend on you down there, huh?” Dean couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice. Sam had only been at his intern position with the police department for about a month, but the officers were very impressed with him already. 

Sam shrugged bashfully. “It’s nice to be helping out.”

“It’s nice to have you back, too,” Dean said. He missed Sam when he was away in California during the school year, and he was incredibly pleased that his brother took this internship at home, even if working with the police wasn’t a direct tie into his dream of becoming a lawyer. 

“Even if you don’t get to eat all the pancakes?” Sam teased.

“I just make a double batch now, easy enough.”

“Like you wouldn’t eat a double batch by yourself.”

“I would never!” Dean exclaimed. “Okay, I mean, I would, but you know. Gotta watch my figure,” he said, patting his stomach. “If those tips start slowing down, you’ll be right up there on the stage with me, Sam.”

Sam’s face quickly turned serious. “We’re doing okay, right?”

Crap. Dean should have known better than to joke about money. “We’re fine, Sam,” he said wearily. 

“Because I can find a part-time job,” Sam said in a rush. “It would only be a few hours a week, cause of the internship, but I’m sure there’s something.”

“I said we’re fine.” And they were. Mostly. Dean was careful, and it would all be worth it eventually. 

Sam eyed him suspiciously. “Just promise me you’ll tell me if that changes, Dean. I mean it. I won’t let you be the only one shouldering this burden.”

Dean snorted into his cup of coffee. What burden did Sam mean, specifically? Two dead parents, one brother at Stanford with enormous bills despite a pretty sweet scholarship, the other one working two jobs to pay for that and also save up for his own dream career? Dean had been shouldering a number of burdens for years now, and yeah, it wasn’t great, but it could still be a hell of a lot worse.

“I’ve got good shoulders,” he said to Sam, aiming for levity again. “And fortunately for us, I’ve got an even better ass. So eat your damn pancakes, and don’t worry about it, okay?”

Sam gave him a disgusted look, never pleased with thinking about how Dean’s great ass was their chief source of income, but did as he was told and finished his pancakes in silence. 

“Have a good day at work,” he said quietly twenty minutes later, ready to head down to the station. 

“Yeah, you too,” Dean said. “Say hi to Jody for me.” He was pretty sure Sam had a bit of a crush on his supervisor despite the age difference, and never missed a chance to tease him about it. 

Sam rolled his eyes at him, and then he was out the door.

Once he was alone, Dean took a quick shower and threw on a basic t-shirt and jeans, ready to head to his day job. He checked his phone on the elevator ride down to the parking garage, but there were no new messages from Charlie, so he didn’t rush as he pulled the Impala out of her spot and drove towards the edge of town.

The rambling old house that housed Charlie’s tech business didn’t look like much from the outside, but that was because all the money went into the gadgets on the inside. Dean parked beside Charlie’s hilariously tiny, offensively yellow car and strolled inside. The house was quiet, which wasn’t unexpected, so he thudded down into the basement in search of human activity.

“Oh, hi, Dean,” Kevin said absently, looking not at the stairs but at the monitor in front of him. 

“Dude, stop watching me on those things, I told you it freaks me out,” Dean said wearily. “Where’s Charlie?”

“Over here!” A second later, Charlie popped out from under one of the desks, a streak of dust across one cheek and a slightly manic grin on her face. “Good, you’re here. There’s a lady downtown who wants her laptop fixed. If you go pick it up now, I should be done with this just as you’re getting back.”

“You couldn’t have called and told me that so I could have picked it up on the way?”

Charlie looked at him blankly. “I was busy.”

Dean shook his head in fond exasperation. It was a good thing he loved these nerds like his own family, because otherwise, being their errand-boy would have gotten old a long time ago. “Okay, send me the address. Anything else you want me to get on the way back?”

“Nachos,” Ash called out from the far corner of the room. Dean hadn’t even noticed him back there.

“Gross,” Dean scoffed. “I’ll get the stuff to _make_ you nachos, how about that?”

He didn’t bother pointing out that it was just after nine in the morning. Time was relative when you spent most of it in a dark basement, eating and sleeping whenever you felt like it. Kevin, Ash, and Charlie played by their own rules, and if that meant nachos as a mid-morning snack, then so be it.

He’d been working for Charlie for the past three years, and while it was unconventional, it fit his schedule and his needs pretty damn well. He had his nights free for his second job at the club, he got to spend a lot of time driving around doing pick-ups and deliveries, and he got to satisfy his natural caretaker urges by making sure the Golden Trio remained well-fed and reasonably well-rested. 

“Alright, I’m out. Please, somebody remember that we have these nifty little things called cell phones that you can use to reach me if you need anything else before I get back here.”

Kevin was the only one who bothered replying, lifting a hand in a dismissive farewell as Dean headed back upstairs and climbed into his car, the engine still warm from his drive over.

It didn’t take long to find the address Charlie provided, and he managed to get away with the customer’s laptop without too much hassle. For some reason, a lot of their clients always wanted Dean to stay and fix the problem on the spot, and he had to explain to them that he was just the errand boy and all this tech stuff was definitely not his strong suit. Sure, he knew his way around an engine, but not a computer. 

With a winning smile and his reassurance that her computer would be given the best of care, Dean moved on to the next part of his mission: nacho supplies. He picked up a few extra things on the way, years of experience making his choices simple: organic apples and all-natural peanut butter for Kevin, gummy worms and Ritz crackers for Charlie, and dark chocolate for Ash. 

He brought the damaged laptop downstairs when he got back to headquarters, but didn’t interrupt his three friends, who were all intently focused on the screens in front of them. Most of the time, Dean had no idea what they were working on. It was enough to keep them living and working in this house and keep him paid a reasonable rate, so he didn’t ask too many questions. He just picked up the dirty mugs scattered around their workstations and returned to the kitchen to get started on a giant tray of nachos.

His phone rang as he was grating the cheese, and he reached for it with a sigh. It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had called him from the basement, too busy to be bothered with ordinary things like stairs and face-to-face communication. The name displayed on the screen, though, wasn’t any of his co-workers’. At least not from this job.

“Hello?” he said tentatively. His boss at the club almost never called him. He had a set schedule, and she preferred to hold meetings in person if necessary, all the better to intimidate him. 

“Dean,” Bela said briskly. “Do you have a moment to chat?”

“Yeah, sure,” he answered, putting down the grater. “Is something wrong?”

He really hoped that guy from the other night hadn’t actually made a complaint against him. Novak, or whatever his name was. It seemed unlikely, but Dean knew better than to be overconfident.

“How would you feel about working a private party this Saturday evening?” Bela asked.

Dean frowned, even though she couldn’t see it. “I thought Alfie and Lisa were going this week. You know, to keep things fresh.”

“Yes, well, our poor sweet Alfie has come down with the flu. He sounds absolutely miserable, and there’s no way he’ll have the strength to perform. The client was very specific: one man, one woman.”

The money was always good at these types of parties, Dean knew. And he and Lisa got along well-- their duo performances were always a hit with the crowd. “Where is it?” he asked.

“Same place as last week. Expect a lot of the same crowd. The host was very impressed, naturally.” Bela’s pride was evident in her tone. She ran a tight ship, and worked hard to maintain her club’s reputation.

Dean considered it for a second. He’d made good money the week before, and obviously Novak hadn’t followed through on his threat to have Dean barred from any parties at his friend’s house. Bela wouldn’t have called him if that were the case. Honestly, that creepy lady, Amara or whatever, had been the most annoying part of his night, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be seeing her there anytime soon. There was no real reason to avoid the scene.

“Yeah, you bet,” he told Bela. “Tell Lisa I’ll pick her up at eight.”

“You’re a darling, Dean,” Bela purred. “See you tonight.”

“You got it.” Dean ended the call and resumed grating the cheese, nibbling on it as he worked.

He’d worked plenty of parties before. Especially when hosted by people who were as rich as this Balthazar guy, they were a great source of income for the dancers, since the average guest was way better-off than the average patron of the club itself. And Bela was careful to always investigate the hosts before agreeing to provide entertainment. She wasn’t the warmest of bosses, but she took good care of her employees, even if it was mostly motivated by her own self-interest. 

Besides, it was nice to get out of the club once in awhile, just to shake things up a bit. Dean liked his night job just as much as he did his day job, really. Stripping was fun. He was good at it, and he made pretty decent money from it. But it was also incredibly repetitive, and even a small change like a different venue could be incredibly reinvigorating. 

Dean sprinkled the cheese over the nachos and slid the tray into the oven, then set the timer. He had about fifteen minutes until they were done-- just enough time to plan out his routines and outfits for Saturday night.

***

The mansion looked exactly the same as it had the week before: large, imposing, and completely without character. There were a few personal touches like small framed photographs in the hall, but other than those, it could have belonged to anyone. Maybe that was part of the fantasy, Dean thought as he and Lisa walked through the halls, heading for the room they’d be performing in. Maybe you came to these parties and imagined that all of this was yours, because your house was nice, but not quite this nice.

Balthazar was chatting away to Lisa about something or other, but Dean wasn’t really paying attention. He kept his eyes on the ground as Balthazar showed them to the room they could use to change in, the same one Dean had used the week before. “It connects directly to the room with the stage,” Balthazar explained to Lisa. “For convenience’s sake.”

She smiled at him, obviously impressed. “This is really well thought-out,” she said.

He smiled back. “I asked Bela to send me her best, so in turn, you deserve the best,” he said simply. “Dean, glad to have you back. Especially after the...unpleasantness, last week, which I do apologize for, again.”

Startled, Dean glanced over at him. Balthazar’s expression was sincere. “Uh, yeah,” Dean mumbled awkwardly. “I’m guessing the intense lady won’t be here tonight?”

“Absolutely not,” Balthazar said firmly. “However...” he paused. “Castiel does have a standing invitation to these get-togethers of mine. His brother was in town this week, so I’m not sure he’ll be attending, but if you prefer that he doesn’t, please let me know. Your comfort is important to me.”

Dean stared at him for a second, incredulous. He was shocked that this guy was willing to cut a friend out of his social circle just to appease the entertainment. 

“Nah, we’re cool,” he said. “He came to see me at the club, you know.”

“He what?” Balthazar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I suggested it to him, of course, but I didn’t think he’d actually follow through. He isn’t normally the type to care what people think of him.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Dean said with a laugh, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it carelessly aside. “I gotta say, man, your friend is one weird guy.”

“Yes, he is that,” Balthazar murmured. “Still. I’m glad he had the sense to attempt to make things right.”

“Eventually. First he just tried to throw more money at me.” 

Lisa scoffed as she took off her own shirt, and Balthazar’s eyes wandered over to her for a second before he returned his attention to Dean. “His people skills are...rusty, to say the least. Good in very specific circumstances, terrible in almost all others.”

Dean was intrigued despite himself. But he was here to do his job, not stand around gossiping about some rich jackass with admittedly stunning blue eyes. 

“So, who’s up first?” he asked instead. “Or do you want us both to come out?”

Balthazar shrugged. “Whatever works for the two of you. It’s still early, so there won’t be many people here yet. Whoever goes out first will be at a disadvantage.”

“Let’s do a combo first then,” Lisa said as she tugged on her stockings. “That’s fair to both of us.”

“Excellent,” Balthazar said smoothly. “I’ll have some water and light refreshments brought in here for you. Please let me know if there’s anything else you require. For now, I have guests to greet.”

With a little half-bow, he swept out of the room, leaving Lisa staring after him in bemusement.

“Rich people are so fucking weird,” she said.

Dean snorted in agreement. “You can say that again.”

“Still,” she continued, sliding into a pair of heels and adjusting them on her feet, “he seems oddly nice.”

“I guess.” He still found it hard to tell just how sincere Balthazar was being at any given moment, but compared to a lot of other people they dealt with, he was nice, Dean supposed. 

They still had a few minutes before they could expect anyone to be out there to watch them, so Dean settled onto the low couch and stretched out. “How’s Ben?” he asked. Lisa’s son was seven years old, and Dean took him to play catch at the park sometimes. He was a good kid.

Lisa smiled at the mention of her son, as always. “He’s great,” she said. “He’s decided he wants to be an astronaut when he grows up, but we’ll see how long that lasts.”

“I wanted to be a firefighter when I was that age,” Dean said with a laugh. “Changed my mind pretty often too, though.”

“And they say women are indecisive,” Lisa teased.

Dean threw her a faux-offended glare. “You tell me who ‘they’ are and I’ll punch them in the face.”

She playfully swatted at his arm, then looked up at the clock on the wall. “Shall we?”

He rose to his feet and extended a hand to help her up, though she didn’t really need it. She balanced in those heels like the pro that she was. Hand in hand, they walked through the doors with their heads held high.

The DJ was obviously waiting for their entrance, and did an impressive job switching the music over quickly and seamlessly as the lights dimmed while they took their positions. 

The music started, slow and sensual. Dean loved dancing with Lisa. She was graceful and flexible and he knew they looked damned good together. The crowd clearly agreed-- there weren’t many people in the room yet, but they were certainly enthusiastic. 

The thing about dancing with a partner was that it meant less interaction with the audience, since you had to keep your eyes on the other person a fair bit of the time. Another reason it worked well for a first routine-- it got the crowd interested before they came out individually to really play into the fantasy. 

They reached Dean’s favourite part of the routine, where Lisa was stretched out across the stage with her legs in the air as Dean slowly rolled her stockings down, caressing her legs the entire way. Once they were off, she rolled up easily and he caught her in his arms, their hips pressed closely together, her legs wrapping slowly around his waist. “They’re loving you,” he whispered in her ear, and she threw her head back, pleased, her hair spilling down her back.

The song ended shortly afterwards, and the cheers were thunderous. Lisa and Dean made their bows, hands linked once again, and collected the bills scattered across the stage before retreating to their dressing room for a break.

Lisa let out a low whistle as she divided their earnings. “And that’s from a small crowd,” she said incredulously. 

“Yeah, I did pretty well for myself last week,” Dean said, running a towel through his hair. “You wanna go out there again next?”

“Can I?” Lisa’s expression was grateful. “If I do a couple extra dances now, I might sneak out before you, so I can get some extra sleep before I have to teach my morning class tomorrow.”

Dean shuddered at the thought of teaching yoga after a night of dancing. “You bet.”

Lisa leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You’re a true gentleman, Dean Winchester.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, flushing. “Knock ‘em dead, kid.”

Once she had her next costume on, Lisa offered him a small salute and went back out to the other room. The applause was sudden and raucous, so Dean knew it was a good idea for her to go back out there. She seemed to have a few passionate admirers.

Of course, that only made Dean think about a certain pair of blue eyes. He hadn’t noticed Novak in the crowd, but then again, he had been mostly focused on Lisa, and the room had only been half-full at best.

He didn’t have much to do while he waited, so he played a few rounds of Words With Friends with Charlie and Sam. It helped to pass the time until Lisa pushed the door back open, flushed and triumphant.

“God, this is amazing,” she said with a laugh. Dean passed her a bottle of water, which she accepted gratefully. “I hope he has these parties often, because Ben’s college fund is going to be extremely happy after tonight.”

“Sam’s too,” Dean replied with a wink. “And yeah, from what I gather, this is a pretty regular occurrence.”

“Amazing.” Lisa sighed, dropping gracefully onto the couch. “You need a hand with anything?”

“Nah, I think I’m all set,” Dean said, adjusting his fitted shirt and taking a critical look at himself in the mirror. “Let’s see if I can’t beat your haul there.”

Lisa flipped him off lazily, her head sinking back against the pillows like she was about to fall asleep. Dean wouldn’t put it past her-- she could sleep anywhere, anytime. It was a skill he was rather envious of.

He was pleased to note that the cheers for his entrance were almost as loud as they had been for Lisa. There was a good mix of people in the crowd, and Dean made sure to offer them a wide smile as he took his position in the middle of the stage.

The lights dimmed, the music kicked in, and Dean’s brain shut off. He lost himself in the familiar movements of his routine, muscles flexing as he danced, feeling the rush of adrenaline he always got when he performed. 

Soon enough, he was down to his tight black booty shorts, which technically covered more than some of his other outfits but hugged his body so perfectly that it didn’t seem to matter to his audience. He knew his ass and thighs looked great in them. Just as the music was coming to a close, he looked up into the crowd and caught sight of a familiar figure leaning against the back wall, eyes locked on the stage.

Castiel Novak.

Dean held his gaze deliberately as he slid into the closest approximation of a split that he could manage (so he wasn’t quite as bendy as Lisa, okay.) To his surprise, Novak flinched and looked away, then hurried out of the room. 

Confused, Dean finished the routine, smiling mechanically as the crowd cheered. Novak had looked almost scared, which was completely unexpected. The guy had been the opposite of meek the last few times they’d interacted, and if Dean was being honest, he kinda liked that about him. 

He found Balthazar chatting to Lisa when he returned to the dressing room. “Hey,” she said, handing him a towel. “Bal says we should take a break now, there’s some band performing downstairs so a lot of people will be distracted by that for about half an hour, then they’ll wander back up.”

“Cool,” Dean said absently, still focused on Novak’s reaction to seeing him. 

“Is there anything I can get you?” Balthazar inquired.

Dean shook his head, and their host left them alone once more.

“I’m gonna go call Ben’s babysitter,” Lisa informed him, pulling her sweatpants and hoodie back on. “See you in a bit.”

Dean waved her off, then slumped down on the couch. He sipped his water thoughtfully for a few seconds, then muttered “fuck it,” and pulled his own hoodie and jeans back on before slipping out of the room.

As Balthazar had predicted, there weren’t too many people left on the upper level of the house. Dean could hear the band playing downstairs, their guitars screeching, and he winced. The sound did not carry up the stairs well. 

Rationally, he knew there was little chance he would find Novak in this giant house. But he had at least half an hour to kill, and he was curious. Curious enough to poke his head into all the bedrooms with open doors, looking for a well-dressed figure with disastrous dark hair. 

He spent about ten minutes looking with no luck, and was about to head back to the dressing room in defeat when he heard a door opening down the hall and looked up to see his target emerge, lowering his phone from his ear as he entered the hall.

“Hey,” Dean drawled. Not his best opening line, sure, but it worked well enough most of the time.

“Hello,” Castiel replied. He seemed wary, confused as to why Dean was speaking to him. Maybe it made Dean a bit of a dick, but he was kind of enjoying watching him squirm.

“You ran away pretty quick back there,” Dean continued. “Gotta admit, it was a bit of a blow to my ego.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I thought you would prefer if I kept my distance.”

“What, now you respect my boundaries?” Dean said mockingly.

“Yes,” Castiel said, clenching his teeth. “Or at least, I’m trying to.”

“Cool,” Dean said. “Then we can start over. Hi, my name’s Dean.”

Castiel looked at him flatly. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you.”

Okay, yeah, maybe Dean was messing with him. A little bit. But he was also still feeling the rush from his performances, and Castiel looked damn good, and okay, maybe Dean was kinda into him.

“Only a little,” he said with a shrug. “It’s kinda fun winding you up.”

“Knowing that the second I snap and say or do something untoward, I’ll only be making things worse for myself?” Castiel asked wryly. 

“Pretty much.” Dean smirked at him. “Think you can handle it?”

Castiel didn’t reply, his eyes sweeping over Dean, assessing him. Despite the fact that he basically got stared at for a living, there was something about Castiel’s gaze that made Dean shiver. In a good way.

“I’m willing to try,” Castiel replied, his voice low.

Fuck. Okay, Dean was _definitely_ into him. 

“Does that mean you’re going to stick around and watch my next dance instead of running away?” he challenged.

“Do you want me to?” Castiel fired back.

“See, now you’re getting it,” Dean grinned. “Yeah, I think I do.The next routine is a particular favourite of mine. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Castiel’s smile was small, but the corners of his eyes crinkled up, and Dean found that oddly endearing.

There was an awkward pause between them as Dean was reminded that they really didn’t know very much about each other at all, making it hard to sustain a conversation.

Then Castiel cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” he offered. “That’s why I panicked. Balthazar told me there would be two different dancers here tonight.”

“Yeah, I was a last-minute substitution,” Dean laughed. 

“An upgrade, I’m sure,” Castiel replied smoothly.

Now there was the kind of charm Dean expected from someone who had as much money as Castiel implied that he did. 

“If you say so. Your friend actually checked in with me to make sure I’d be okay with you being here,” Dean said, gauging Castiel’s reaction.

It was small, but there was a flicker of surprise that crossed his face. “And you’re still here, so I can assume you said that was acceptable.” 

“Yeah,” Dean replied, still watching him carefully. “I’ve been in this business for a while, you know. We sell a fantasy every night, and that makes us pretty good at sniffing out bullshit. I think you’re genuinely sorry about the way you acted, and that’s good enough for me.”

Castiel’s lips twisted in a grimace. “I can’t promise I won’t be an asshole again.”

“I can’t promise not to provoke you,” Dean replied. “Besides...I kinda dig your temper.”

The grimace slowly morphed into a smile that lit up Castiel’s entire face, and Dean’s breath caught in his throat. He was prepared to handle him as a spoiled, entitled, incredibly attractive prospective hook-up, but that smile made him _feel_ things. Christ.

“Listen,” Dean said, “I gotta head back. We’re due on stage soon, and Lisa and I have to finalize the order of our routines.”

“Of course.” Castiel’s shoulders slumped in what might have been disappointment, and Dean fought to hide a smile.

“I’ll see you in there, though, right?”

He could see Castiel’s eyes darken, and it sent an answering thrill through Dean’s entire body. He’d performed in front of people he was attracted to before, but this...this would be something else. 

“I couldn’t possibly refuse an offer like that,” Castiel murmured. “I’ll see you in there, Dean.”

It was times like these that Dean was glad he used his real first name on stage. Hearing the way it sounded in Castiel’s rough voice was sweeter than any of the music he danced to. 

“Bye, Cas,” Dean replied, letting his own voice go dark and low. He turned and walked away, making sure to put an extra little sway in his hips, and he was pretty sure he heard Castiel groan from behind him.

He was being paid to entertain the guests as a whole, but they didn’t need to know that he would really be dancing for one person in particular. Dean was good at faking it. After all, he was a professional.


	3. Chapter 3

It felt like the best kind of dream, walking back into the room where the stage was set up and waiting for Dean to start his next performance. Castiel barely noticed the other faces in the crowd, though he did accept a flute of champagne from one of the roving servers and absently pressed a bill into her hand in thanks. He didn’t even know how much he tipped her.

Quite frankly, he didn’t care.

He didn’t push his way to the front of the room, though. Instead, he chose a point about halfway into the room, towards the right side, where he would have a better view of the stage. Of Dean.

He sipped his champagne and waited.

It was probably only about ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity before the lights dimmed and the room erupted into riotous applause. Castiel tensed, his eyes focused on the stage with laser-like intensity. 

The music started, something dark and heavy that he didn’t recognize, but he knew he would forever remember after tonight. And then the lights came back on, revealing Dean standing with his back to the audience, wearing a white tank top and sinfully short cut-off jean shorts.

Castiel’s mouth went dry, and he took a large gulp of his champagne to counteract it. Dean began to move, slowly at first, just a slight sway of his body in time with the music. He turned around slowly, the angles of his face thrown into sharp relief by the lights. 

As Dean peeled off his shirt, revealing more and more of his glorious skin, the crowd grew increasingly loud. Castiel kept quiet, though. He feared that if he spoke, or moved, or changed his position in any way, the spell would be broken. 

He couldn’t help the tiny whimper that escaped him when Dean removed the last of his clothing, leaving him in nothing but that damned red G-string again. Castiel had never loved or hated a flimsy scrap of material so much in his life. It clung tightly to Dean’s body, and when Dean’s hand drifted lazily down his own stomach to toy with the sides of it as though he was about to pull it off completely, Castiel almost shattered his empty champagne flute.

Of course, that was the exact moment that Dean’s eyes locked onto his across the room.

Castiel could only guess at his own expression, but Dean’s was intense, almost predatory. He held Castiel’s gaze for a few breathless seconds, and then looked away. Castiel felt the loss keenly, but he understood. He wasn’t the only one in the room, and Dean needed to play to the entire crowd.

It was enough to know that Dean wanted him here. That Dean _asked_ him to be here. 

The song ended only seconds later, and Castiel joined in the applause. Dean bowed and waved to his audience, a pleased smile on his face. He looked sweet and sincere and surprisingly young. Castiel was struck by the difference between this youthful charm and the polished, seductive persona he projected while he danced. 

He wanted to get to know every part of Dean, everything that made him tick, everything that made him who he was. 

And that was very, very unusual for Castiel. Having incredible amounts of money and free time meant that he was a master of self-analysis, and he was self-aware enough to know he had a tendency to be dismissive of people, most likely due to his unconventional upbringing. 

He’d never cared enough to work on it, though. Never cared enough to try to forge a genuine connection with someone. He was content with his life, or so he thought.

Now he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he had been missing out this whole time.

He laughed to himself. What a cliché. He was obviously projecting too many of his own issues onto a situation that was still far from clearly defined. He had no idea what Dean wanted from him, if anything. If all that came of this was that dance, Castiel would be satisfied. 

Or so he told himself.

The music started again, startling Castiel from his thoughts, and he snapped his eyes back to the stage, but it wasn’t Dean who stood there. It was the woman-- Lisa, if he remembered correctly. It made sense that they would take turns performing.

She was very beautiful, Castiel noted, and incredibly talented. But she didn’t capture his attention the same way that Dean did. Somehow that made it easier to slip through the crowd and leave her a tip. She gave him a smile as he backed away, letting one of her more ardent admirers take his place.

The next routine featured both Lisa and Dean, and Castiel found it fascinating. It was very different watching them dance together, their attention focused more on each other than on the crowd, who didn’t seem to mind at all. They looked beautiful together, their movements perfectly in sync, with a chemistry that spoke to their familiarity and comfort with one another. The music was slower, more sensual, providing a heightened sense of intimacy despite the number of people in the room.

Castiel was really quite impressed with Balthazar for his discerning taste in entertainment. He made a mental note to tell Balthazar his thoughts, because he was always looking for feedback on these gatherings, looking for ways to maintain his reputation as the best host in Lawrence.

As the song came to an end, Dean caught Castiel’s eye once more and jerked his head towards the door off to the side of the stage. Castiel nodded. He made his way through the crowd and was waiting by the door when Dean and Lisa got down from the stage and made their escape.

“Hey,” Dean greeted him with a lazy smile. “Cas, this is Lisa. Lisa, Cas.”

“Hi,” Lisa said, a hint of curiosity in her voice. “You a friend of Dean’s?”

Castiel exchanged a wry glance with Dean before replying. “Something like that.”

Lisa looked between the two of them, amusement etched on her features. “Well then. Nice meeting you, Cas. I’m done for the night, so you boys have a good time.”

Dean’s gaze snapped back to her. “You got a ride home?” The concern in his voice was evident.

“Yeah.” She smiled at him. “Balthazar called a car for me.” She stretched up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek, then disappeared into the dressing room with a little wave.

There was a moment of weighty silence as Castiel and Dean stared at each other, both waiting for the other to speak first.

“You were good out there,” Castiel blurted out. 

Dean laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. “Thanks,” he said. “Told you you would enjoy it.”

“I did.” Castiel wouldn’t tell Dean exactly how much he had enjoyed his performance, or what kind of thoughts he’d been having during it. Not unless Dean asked, of course.

“So, listen,” Dean said, leaning against the wall, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that he was still almost completely unclothed. “I’ve got about two more dances, then I’m done for the night. What do you say I come find you after that, and we finally get a chance to have a real conversation?”

Castiel just stared at him, confounded. Dean’s confident smile slipped from his face, his mouth curling into a sneer instead.

“Of course,” he muttered, looking away. “What was I thinking. You’re not interested in a conversation. Not with somebody like me, anyways. Nice enough to look at, or to take home, but that’s about it.” He shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh. “I thought maybe since you were smart enough not to throw money at me this time, there was hope for you. But I guess I was wrong.”

He turned away from Castiel, his hand reaching for the doorknob, and Castiel’s brain finally caught up with the situation.

“Wait,” he said urgently. “No, Dean, that’s not…” He took a deep breath. “Yes. I’d like that. Very much.”

Dean’s expression was skeptical. “And you were just too overcome with surprise to say that right away?”

“Yes,” Castiel said firmly, aware of how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m...unaccustomed to _conversation_ being the thing to look forward to at the end of a party.”

Dean laughed again, but it was more genuine this time. “Wow, Cas, way to make yourself sound like a real upstanding guy.”

“I never said I was,” Castiel replied bluntly. “Never acted like it, either. And yet, you’re the one who came looking for me tonight, and you’re the one who asked for more time with me.”

Dean considered this carefully, searching Castiel’s face as though looking for answers there. Castiel kept his expression neutral, and eventually Dean nodded, satisfied.

“Meet me back here in an hour,” he said. 

Castiel tilted his head to the side, confused. “Can’t I stay and watch?”

One side of Dean’s mouth lifted in a self-satisfied smirk. “I really don’t think you can, Cas. I saw the way you were watching me earlier. You really think you can control yourself through two more dances and then still keep our conversation PG-13?”

So maybe he had been a tad intense with his staring. “Probably not,” Castiel agreed. “See you in an hour, then, Dean.”

With great effort, he turned and walked away. Now what the hell was he supposed to do with himself for an hour?

He thought back to all the other nights he’d spent at parties exactly like this. By this point in the evening, he would normally be considerably more intoxicated, but alcohol held very little appeal at the moment. He wandered downstairs, brushing past groups of giggling people in varying states of disarray, ignoring the whispers that followed behind him.

He was absently scanning the crush of people, hoping to catch sight of Balthazar, when someone placed themselves firmly in his path. “Excuse me,” Castiel said, barely bothering to glance at her.

“Ouch,” the girl said with a brittle laugh. “I knew you were cold, Castiel, but ouch.”

Castiel looked at her more closely. Her hair was different, but he was fairly certain her name was April, and that they had slept together. Once. Months ago.

He smiled tightly at her. “Hello, April. Are you having a good time?”

Transparently grateful to be remembered, a smile stretched across her face. “Pretty good, yeah. I know how it could get even better, though.” She trailed her hand down Castiel’s chest, her invitation clear.

He took her hand and gently pulled it away. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

She pouted at him pleadingly. “Oh, come on. We had fun, didn’t we?”

Honestly, Castiel didn’t remember their night together at all. Which meant it must not have been completely terrible-- he always remembered the really bad ones. But it certainly hadn’t been anything spectacular either. 

“Sure,” he lied. “But not tonight.” He just wanted to get away from her.

She looked ready to try another tactic, her lips parting to say something more, but finally Castiel spotted Balthazar’s sandy head across the room and breathed a sigh of relief. “Excuse me,” he said abruptly, and made a beeline for his friend.

He was pretty sure he heard her say something less-than-complimentary as he strode away, but he didn’t care.

“Castiel!” Balthazar shouted as he approached. “I’ve been looking for you.” He took Castiel by the hand and guided him away from the crowd, into one of the smaller rooms off the main hall. There was a couple entwined in one of the large leather armchairs, but they didn’t even look up as Balthazar and Castiel entered.

“Have you been upstairs yet?” Balthazar asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes,” Castiel answered. “I know, Bal. Dean’s here.”

“And is he as captivating to you as he was last week, or have you lost interest?”

“Captivating as ever,” Castiel confirmed. “I think we’re going on a date.”

Balthazar’s face went blank. “A date,” he repeated slowly.

“He said he wanted to have a real conversation,” Castiel shrugged.

“And you agreed?”

“Yes. Why do you sound so shocked?”

“You don’t date,” Balthazar said. “Ever.”

Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but his friend had a point. He couldn’t remember the last time he went out with a prospective partner. He brought plus-ones to family events that he couldn’t avoid attending, but that was more for appearance’s sake than anything, or to ensure that he had someone to accompany him into an empty room or closet for a bit of release. 

“Maybe I want to try,” he said.

Balthazar nodded gently. “Sure, Castiel. Sure. But a stripper? Really?”

“You’re the one who hired them to perform here,” Castiel snapped. “I don’t think you have any right to look down on them.”

Balthazar held his hands up in a calming gesture. “Woah, boy. Easy. I didn’t mean it like that. Just...what on earth are you going to talk about?”

“Anything. Everything. Whatever people talk about on dates.”

“Which just goes to show, you have no idea what you’re doing,” Balthazar said, shaking his head in dismay. “This is going to be an epic disaster. I’m tempted to tag along just to witness it.”

“Thank you for your support,” Castiel said sarcastically. “However would I manage without you?”

“Seriously though,” Balthazar continued. “Good luck. Text me if he punches you.”

“He’s not going to--” Castiel muttered darkly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will,” Balthazar said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You always are.”

Castiel pulled out his phone to check the time. He had about ten minutes before he was due to meet Dean upstairs.

“I’ve got to go,” he told Balthazar. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You too,” Balthazar said with a lewd wink.

Castiel flipped him off as he left the room, figuring he had just enough time to use the bathroom and check that he looked presentable before his date. With Dean.

What a strange turn this night had taken.

He waited in line for the bathroom, grimacing when he entered and saw the used condom stuck to the floor. Careful to avoid stepping on it, he ran his hands through his hair until he was satisfied that it looked deliberately dishevelled. He splashed some cold water on his face and, after careful consideration, undid one more button on his shirt, revealing more of his throat. 

He looked fuckable, but did he look dateable? Castiel really couldn’t tell. Was there even a difference? Maybe this was going to end with he and Dean in bed together anyways. After another minute, he shrugged and left the bathroom. There was nothing else to do about it at this point.

Dean was waiting for him exactly where he said he would be. He had changed into a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt, with a light jacket on top. It was strange, Castiel thought absently, how he managed to look just as good in clothes as he did out of them.

“Wasn’t sure you were going to show,” Dean admitted as he approached. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Castiel frowned.

“Million reasons,” Dean shrugged. “You ready?”

Castiel nodded decisively. “I can have a car here in five minutes.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed. Castiel was too mesmerized by the way it highlighted the long line of his throat to be offended by his amusement.

“Dude,” Dean said when he got himself back under control. “No. Just... no. I drove here. I asked you to hang out, I’m driving.”

He took Castiel by the elbow and deftly led him through the crowd, down the stairs, and out the door before Castiel had the chance to protest.

Castiel expected Dean’s car to be some small, rusted thing, so he was shocked when Dean halted in front of a gleaming black beast of a classic and turned to him with a pleased grin on his face. “Cas, meet Baby.”

“This is your car?” Castiel asked, reaching out to run a gentle hand over the roof. 

“Yep,” Dean said, opening the passenger door and gesturing for Castiel to slide in. “Used to be my dad’s. Pretty much the only good thing he left me, to be honest.”

That helped explain how Dean could afford it, at least. Though why he didn’t sell it was beyond Castiel. Sentimental value, perhaps? Not that his relationship with his father sounded particularly positive. He considered asking, but despite Balthazar’s teasing, even he knew that wasn’t appropriate first-date conversation. 

Dean looked good behind the wheel, Castiel noted. He looked good everywhere, of course, but particularly so here. He pulled out of the parking spot with ease, putting the lights of Balthazar’s house behind them.

“Where are we headed?” Castiel asked. It was after one in the morning, and even most bars would be closing up soon. He didn’t think Dean would be bringing him back to his place. He couldn’t tell if he was disappointed about that or not.

“Friend of mine runs a place that’s open late to cater to the post-bar crowd,” Dean replied, glancing over at Castiel. “We probably have time to grab one beer before last call, but we can hang out there after that. Great burgers, if you’re hungry.”

Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he ate a burger that wasn’t from some trendy, up-and-coming bistro, topped with unusual ingredients or featuring something other than beef as the main patty ingredient. 

“That sounds perfect,” he said. He didn’t really care about the food. He was just thrilled to be going somewhere with Dean. Literally and metaphorically.

“It’s probably not your usual scene,” Dean said, looking over at him again, a slight smile playing around his lips. “Be prepared for a few strange looks.”

Castiel shrugged. “I’m accustomed to attention, both positive and negative.”

“If you say so, buddy.” Dean sounded amused, at least. He didn’t seem likely to pull over and eject Castiel from the car, so overall, Castiel thought, this was going quite well so far.

There were few other cars on the road at this time of night, so it didn’t take them long to get from the outskirts of town where Balthazar lived to the busier commercial centre. Dean soon pulled into a half-full parking lot beside a slightly ramshackle building.

Castiel understood exactly why Dean had said it wasn’t his usual scene, but he didn’t mind. He hopped out of the car and indicated that Dean should lead. “After you.”

Dean’s eyes lit up in anticipation as he pushed the door open, looking back over his shoulder at Castiel as he did. “Welcome to The Roadhouse.”

The interior was dark and slightly smoky, loud rock music playing over the speakers, but it managed to still feel warm and welcoming. Dean steered them towards a booth in the back corner. “Less noisy back here,” he explained. 

They had just taken their seats when a pretty blonde came over, balancing a tray of empty glasses in one hand. “Hey, Dean,” she said with a smile. Then she looked over at Castiel and did a double-take. He nodded at her, unsurprised that he had been recognized.

“Hey, Jo,” Dean replied. “Can we get two of the IPAs, please? And a cheeseburger for me.” 

He looked at Castiel expectantly, who smiled at Jo and said, “The same for me, please.”

“You must be a regular here, to be on first-name terms with the staff,” Castiel commented. After seeing Dean’s car, this place made perfect sense for the picture of Dean he was forming in his head. 

“Jo and her mom, Ellen, they run this place,” Dean explained. “Old family friends. Jo’s basically my little sister.”

Not a romantic rival, then. That was good to know. 

“How about you?” Dean asked. “I still feel like I barely know anything about you.”

Right, that was what people did on dates, especially first dates. Asked vague, open-ended questions in an effort to get to know one another. And that was precisely why Castiel generally avoided going on dates. But Dean was different. 

“Not much to tell,” Castiel said. “I’m sure you already know quite a bit.”

Dean frowned at him. “Other than the fact that you’re friends with the guy who hires me to perform at his parties, you’re kind of an asshole, and you’re apparently loaded, no, not really.”

It took a few seconds for Dean’s words to fully sink in. Jo had recognized him immediately, he could tell by her reaction…but was it possible that Dean really didn’t know who he was?

“And I’m a Novak,” he said slowly.

“What does that mean?” Dean asked. No hint of levity in his voice.

“My family’s quite famous,” Castiel said, hating the way it sounded like he was trying to impress Dean with his family name. “Pharmaceuticals, tech, you name it, the Novak Corporation has a hand in it.”

Jo swung by their table and deposited their orders. Dean thanked her and then returned his attention to Castiel. “Okay,” he said, nibbling on a fry. “But that doesn’t tell me anything about you.”

Castiel wasn’t used to people caring about him as something distinct from his family. That wasn’t just self-pity talking, either. It was a simple fact. Maybe it was why he didn’t go on dates. Nobody wanted to get to know him. They just wanted the thrill of a night with a Novak, the hope of maybe some future benefits from the dalliance. 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said honestly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “God, you’re terrible at this,” he said. He took a sip of his beer, studying Castiel over the top of the glass. “Let’s start basic. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Red,” Castiel said immediately. He felt himself flush, realizing that he’d never really had a preference until now. Until Dean, and that pair of red underwear of his. 

Judging by the look on Dean’s face, he knew exactly what Castiel was thinking. “I bet,” he said in a low voice. 

A tense moment passed, only broken by a loud shout of triumph from one of the pool players in the corner. Dean’s lips lifted in a grin. “Okay, let’s try something with more than a one-word answer this time. When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

“I didn’t,” Castiel replied. “Think about it, I mean.”

“Oh come on, everybody thinks about that when they’re a kid.”

Castiel shook his head. “No. My tutors and caretakers told me I would never have to work a day in my life, so I never thought about it. And so far, they’ve been right.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean muttered. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Think about it now. If your family lost all their money overnight, and suddenly you had to get a job like the rest of us plebs, what would you want to do?”

Nothing immediately came to Castiel’s mind. He was smart, he knew-- he’d been told as much by every tutor he’d ever had. He had a college degree in English Literature. “I like books,” he said tentatively. “Maybe a librarian? Or if I could save enough money to get it started, I would run a bookstore.”

Dean nodded encouragingly. “There we go. Now I know something about you.”

Apparently this type of soul-searching was hungry work. Castiel took a bite of his burger, which was really quite good, and made an appreciative noise. 

“And now I also know that you like burgers,” Dean added with a grin. 

“And I know that you have excellent taste in them,” Castiel replied. “I’m beginning to see how this works, now.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, interrupted by Jo coming over to their table to check on them. “Last call,” she announced, eyeing their half-full glasses of beer. 

Dean looked at Castiel, who shook his head. 

“We’re good,” he told Jo with a wink. “I gotta drive Cas here home after.”

“You got the day off tomorrow?” Jo asked.

Dean nodded. “Yup, I’m gonna sleep in, and it’s going to be great.”

Castiel followed their conversation with interest, and when Jo left, he had a number of questions for Dean. “Aren’t your hours generally conducive to sleeping in?”

Dean looked puzzled for a second. “Oh, yeah, stripping is. But I work full-time during the day every day except Sunday too. It’s my one day totally work-free.”

Somehow Castiel had never considered that Dean might have a second job. His surprise must have shown on his face, because Dean laughed and shook his head.

“I also work for a friend’s tech-company. She basically runs it out of her basement, so I do deliveries and pick-ups, some of the bookkeeping, everything they need to keep them in their little digital worlds without having to deal with the real one.”

“That sounds interesting,” Castiel offered. “I apologize. I suppose I just assumed…”

“That I wouldn’t be stripping if I had any other options,” Dean finished for him.

Castiel winced. “It sounds awful when you put it like that.”

“You’re not the first person to make that assumption,” Dean said with a shrug. “About me, or about strippers in general. Most of my co-workers also have second jobs. Lisa teaches yoga, for example. That’s why she wanted to leave early-- she has a class tomorrow morning.”

“But if you have a full-time job…”

“Why am I stripping too?” Dean said with a wry grin. “My brother, Sam, goes to Stanford. It’s just me and him, and that place is expensive.”

Castiel nodded, but he still didn’t fully understand. “I suppose the money is good,” he said. “But is it good enough to make it worth it?”

Dean took another bite of his burger before answering. “I’m getting the feeling that you have a lot of outdated notions about what it is that I do.”

Castiel started to apologize, but Dean held up a hand to cut him off. “It’s fine,” he said with a little laugh. “Like I said, not the first person. But Cas, let me ask you something: when you saw me up there on that stage, either last week or tonight, did I look unhappy to be there?”

Castiel considered this. No, Dean looked anything but unhappy when he was performing. Confident, practiced, poised, but not unhappy. “You like it,” he said, surprised.

“Bingo,” Dean said with a sharp nod. “Shocker, I know. I’m not doing this because of daddy issues, or because it’s my last resort, or because I think my body is the only part of me that has any value.”

“You just like it.”

“And it’s true, the money’s good. The hours are easy to add on top of another job. My boss takes pretty good care of us.”

Castiel remembered how surprised he had been by the club when he visited, and nodded. “You seem to have found a good place.”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed. “Didn’t start out that well, but Bela’s a shark. She comes along and scoops up talent from other clubs, so I only spent a few months at this skeevy place before she brought me onboard.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Castiel said. “The thought of you in a less than savory establishment is distressing to me, I admit.”

“Oh no,” Dean said, waving a finger at him warningly. “Don’t you get all protective and patronizing on me. Cut that shit out right now.”

“I simply meant that I’m glad you’re happier,” Castiel said in frustration. This conversation was like navigating a minefield. It seemed that everything he said was offensive to Dean on some level.

“And that’s fine,” Dean answered. “But you haven’t earned the right to be distressed about what I do, or how I do it. We barely know each other, but if you’re already thinking of me as somebody who needs rescuing, this is going to be over before it even starts.”

“You told me you didn’t need rescuing when we first me,” Castiel reminded him wryly. “I haven’t forgotten.”

That prompted a laugh from Dean. “Good,” he said. “Besides, I’ve probably only got a few more years of this anyways.”

Castiel frowned. “Surely more than a few years?” he asked. “You’re what, mid-twenties? If you keep yourself in shape, I think your appeal will last far longer than that.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, not because I’ll get too old for it, Jesus. This was never meant to be a long-term thing. In a few more years, I’ll have enough saved to go back to school.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, feeling rather foolish. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “What would you go back to study?”

That was a good question, right? Maybe he wasn’t a complete disaster at this.

“I want to be a teacher,” Dean said softly. “High school. I know, if they ever found out about the stripping there’d be next to no chance, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“I think you would make a great teacher,” Castiel told him. “It’s an admirable goal, Dean.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean said ruefully. “It’s still a few years off.”

Determined not to let the conversation falter, Castiel thought back on what Dean had revealed about himself so far. “You said your brother goes to Stanford? What is he studying?”

A fond smile appeared on Dean’s face. “He wants to be a lawyer. He just finished his third year of undergrad, and he’s back here for the summer, doing an internship at the police department.”

Castiel whistled. “Pre-law at Stanford. He must be very bright.” 

“He is,” Dean said proudly. “Kid’s a genius.”

He looked so happy when he talked about his brother, Castiel noted. They were obviously very close. 

“What about you?” Dean asked. “You brought a brother with you to the club the other night, didn’t you? Got any more siblings?”

“I keep forgetting you don’t know all this,” Castiel said. “Yes. Gabriel, who you met briefly. There’s also Anna, Michael, and Hael. They’re all older than me, except for Hael, and Gabriel is the only one I’m in regular contact with.”

“Dude,” Dean said, surprised. “That sucks.”

Castiel shrugged. “I suppose it sounds strange, considering that you seem to have a very good relationship with your brother. But no, my family has never been close. It’s never bothered me much.”

“You guys just don’t get along?” Dean asked curiously.

“Not even that,” Castiel replied. “We just don’t have much of an impact on each other’s lives. We see each other at family functions, exchange a few pleasantries, and that’s that.”

“I can’t even imagine that,” Dean said. “Sounds awfully lonely.”

“Being alone isn’t the same thing as being lonely,” Castiel countered.

“But if it’s what you’re used to, would you really know the difference?” Dean shot back.

That stopped Castiel short. He started to reply, and then broke off, frowning. “Are you trying to force me into some sort of lightbulb moment?” he asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know, is it working?” Dean asked. His teasing tone would have been more effective if he hadn’t yawned immediately afterwards, bringing up his hand to cover his mouth in embarrassment. 

Castiel checked the time on the phone, startled to discover they’d been there for almost two hours already. “Time flies,” he said, turning the phone around so Dean could see it.

Dean nodded and yawned again. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not bored, I’m just…”

“Tired,” Castiel finished for him. “It’s understandable. Shall we call it a night?”

At Dean’s nod, he lifted his hand to indicate to Jo that they were ready to leave and that she could bring them the bill. He was reaching for his wallet when Dean stopped him with a hand to his wrist.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said.

Castiel frowned. He knew it probably wouldn’t be an expensive meal, and that Dean had a rather healthy dose of pride, but nevertheless, he felt he ought to be the one to pay.

“Dean, please, allow me,” he said.

“Oh, I’m not the one doing the allowing or not,” Dean laughed. “Jo and Ellen don’t let me pay here. You try saying no to them. They’re pretty scary.”

Castiel thought about the sharp intelligence in Jo’s eyes and the way she handled heavy trays with ease. “I can see that. You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Dean insisted. 

“He’s sure,” Jo said, coming to join them. “I know you can afford it, but Dean’s family, which makes you a friend of the family.” She smirked slightly as she said the word _friend_ , and Dean blushed.

“Thank you, Jo,” Castiel said. He still planned to leave her a hefty tip, hopefully without Dean noticing. 

“Night, Jo,” Dean told her. “Don’t be too mean when you kick the old boys out tonight.”

“I make no promises,” she told him, then walked away with a final wave.

“So,” Dean said, jingling his keys, “can I drive you home?”

Castiel hesitated. That was a good sign, right? It meant Dean wasn’t itching to be rid of him the minute he could do so. “If you’d like,” he said cautiously.

Dean grinned at him. “I would like. You look pretty good in my car, Cas.”

The easy flirtation had Castiel wondering about Dean’s intentions as they made their way out to the parking lot and into the Impala. He had no expectations, but of course he would love to invite Dean in, to spread him out on his king-sized bed and worship every inch of his gorgeous body. 

But it would be Dean’s choice. Castiel resolved to let Dean set the pace from here on out, mostly because he didn’t trust himself not to mess it up.

They drove mostly in silence other than Castiel’s murmured directions. It took them about fifteen minutes to reach his house, and Dean let out a low whistle as Castiel passed him the card to flash at the gate before they wound their way up the long drive. 

“Big place,” Dean commented. “Looks a lot like your friend’s.”

“Yes, I suppose it does,” Castiel said. “I don’t host nearly as frequently as Balthazar does, however.”

“So you won’t be hiring me to dance in one of your ridiculously large rooms, then,” Dean noted.

“Trust me, Dean,” Castiel said. “If ever I’m so lucky to have you dance in my home, it won’t be because I’ve hired you.”

He wondered for a moment if that was too forward of him, but Dean’s muttered “fuck” seemed to be a positive reaction. 

“Does that mean you want to see me again?” Dean asked after a moment. 

“Yes,” Castiel said simply.

“Cool,” Dean said with a bright smile. “Can I get your number?” He passed his phone over to Castiel, who typed in his number and saved it as a new contact, then passed it back to Dean.

“Cool,” Dean said again. “Well, I guess this is goodnight.”

Castiel hesitated with his hand on the car door. “Goodnight,” he said. Dean made no move towards him, so he figured he wasn’t going to get a kiss, and tried not to be too disappointed. 

But when he opened the door, he found Dean coming around the car to meet him, a determined look on his face. He reached out with one hand and cupped Castiel’s face, waiting.

Castiel found himself unable to form words, so he just nodded.

Dean kissed him with an intensity that sent Castiel reeling. He didn’t ease into it, just pressed his lips firmly against Castiel’s.

Castiel returned to the kiss with equal fervour, finally able to express the desire he’d felt since the moment he first saw Dean dance. Dean’s mouth parted, allowing his tongue entry, and the kiss grew deeper and filthier until finally Dean pulled away, slightly out of breath. 

“Night, Cas,” he said, sounding far too pleased with himself.

“Goodnight,” Castiel managed. He felt shaken to the core by that kiss, and he stood motionless as Dean returned to his car, whistling.

He stood in his driveway until he could no longer see the lights of Dean’s car, and then he finally went inside, lips still tingling.

He pulled out his phone before getting ready for bed and sent a single text to Balthazar. 

_Well, I got a second date, so apparently I have some skill._

His phone chimed back seconds later. _That’s my boy!_

And then, just before Castiel put his phone down on his nightstand, it chimed again. But this time the message was from Dean.

_Had a great time tonight, Cas. And by the way…_

By the time Castiel finished reading the message, a picture had arrived. He opened it, and nearly dropped his phone in shock. It was a picture of Dean, pulling his jeans down over his hips, revealing that red G-string. _I was wearing this the whole time._

Castiel groaned. This man was going to be the death of him.

He closed the image and put his phone away, turning off the lamp and climbing under the covers. But he tossed and turned, unable to settle. All he could think about was Dean.

Cursing, he grabbed his phone and opened the message from Dean again. He wouldn’t have sent it if it he didn’t want it to be enjoyed, Castiel rationalized. God, it was a thing of beauty. Dean’s face wasn’t in the shot, but his torso and his hands were, and that was more than enough to get Castiel’s mind racing. 

Conveniently, he generally slept in just his boxers, so he had plenty of exposed skin to run his own hands over. He swept over his chest, teasing, then rubbed at one of his nipples with increased pressure, drawing a sharp gasp. He wondered if Dean’s nipples would be as sensitive as his own. He hoped so.

He snuck another glance at the picture, admiring the lines of Dean’s body and the size of his hand where it pulled at the string of his underwear. Dean had wonderful hands, and he looked like he knew how to use them. If the way he had kissed Castiel earlier was any indication, Dean was no stranger to physical expressions of desire.

Castiel bit back a groan, thinking of how good Dean’s lips had felt against his own. Would he be equally as intense if he was kissing his way down Castiel’s chest instead? His hand drifted lower, just barely brushing over the growing bulge in his underwear. He was so turned on already, it was incredible.

He teased himself with a few strokes through his boxers, imaging that Dean would touch him in a similar manner, a smirk on his face as he looked down at Castiel. Then, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he slipped his hand inside and wrapped it around his erection, head falling back against the pillows.

“Fuck,” he murmured. He tightened his grip, precome helping to ease the way, and twisted his hand slightly. “Yes, just like that.”

Not for the first time, he was glad there was no one else in the house to overhear the noises that came from his bedroom.

He wanted someone else’s noises to echo off his high ceilings along with his, though. He wanted to see Dean’s cock swell, trapped beneath that scrap of red fabric, to feel it press against his own as they rutted together, sweaty and breathless.

He was getting close, moving his hand frantically now. He spread his legs further apart, imagining Dean between them, looking down to watch as Castiel worked himself to climax.

He came with a low groan, spilling all over his hand. Too dazed to move, he lay there panting for a few moments before finally rolling over to grab a tissue to wipe himself down with. God, that was satisfying.

If he came that hard just thinking about Dean, Castiel wondered it would be like to actually have sex with him. He hoped someday he might get the chance to find out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With loving apologies to A_Diamond. I'm sorry this doesn't take place in Seattle.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean didn’t hear from Castiel for two days after he sent him that picture.

At first, he was a bit offended. It was a great picture, and surely he deserved some recognition for it. Then he started to wonder if maybe he had pushed things too far too fast, but based on his previous interactions with Cas, he didn’t think he was any type of delicate, innocent flower. Or maybe that picture was all Cas wanted from him. A proxy for sex, without having to pretend to be interested in Dean for more than his body.

Dean let his righteous indignation fuel him through Sunday and Monday, focusing on his work at both jobs. He was out dropping off a newly-repaired laptop at a regular client’s apartment on Tuesday afternoon when he heard his phone chime. Assuming it was Charlie with another task for him, he picked up without looking at the display.

“Hey,” he said. “What do you need?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Again, not unusual. Charlie often got distracted and forgot to respond immediately.

“Dean?”

Definitely not Charlie.

“Oh, hey, Cas,” Dean said, caught off guard. “Sorry, I thought it was my boss calling.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, no,” Dean said hastily. “To be honest, though, I didn’t really think I’d hear from you.”

There was another pause. “Did you not want to?”

“I never said that.” Dean knew he was being annoying, but he enjoyed making Castiel work for it. 

He was pretty sure he could hear Cas cursing under his breath, but his voice was carefully controlled when he spoke again. “I’d like to see you again, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

Dean grinned triumphantly. he got what he wanted, now enough toying with the poor guy. “Yeah, I would be interested.”

“Wonderful. I know you have a very busy schedule…”

Which was a big part of the reason Dean hadn’t done much dating in awhile. He really only had one free day per week.

“I’m off Sundays,” he replied. “We could go to a movie or something.”

“A movie,” Castiel repeated, like he was unfamiliar with the concept. “Alright. Sunday it is.”

“Okay, I’ll text you later this week to figure out details. I should be getting back to work.”

“Of course. Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye, Cas.”

Dean ended the call and put his phone away, whistling as he made his way back to his car. Sunday was a long way off, but now it was something to look forward to for the rest of the week, even more so than usual. He generally spent his days off hanging out with Sam or catching up on TV shows, but it was nice to have actual plans for once.

Besides, he was pretty damn pleased about Cas reaching out to him in the first place. Dean still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about him-- there was a lot of potential there, but it was buried under a whole crapton of issues. At least for now, though, he wanted the chance to explore that potential. 

He deserved some fun in his life. Something that was just for him. Work was fun in its own way, and he didn’t resent having to do so much of it to support his and Sam’s dreams. He knew it would all be worth it in the end. But he didn’t want to look back on these years of his life and see them entirely defined by his jobs or by how much his bank account grew. 

It would be much more interesting to reflect on the time he dated someone semi-famous.

***

Their schedules were both so full that it wasn’t until Saturday afternoon that Dean had a chance to catch up with Sam.

“Move over,” Sam said, reaching out to knock Dean’s legs off the couch so he could join him. “Urgh, are you watching Doctor Sexy again?”

“Again. Still. Always,” Dean replied absently, not taking his eyes off the screen. “This is a good one. They get that coma patient who turns out to be the long-lost sister of one of the surgeons.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam said, but he didn’t get up and leave, so Dean counted that as a victory. “Working at the club or a party tonight?”

“Nah, just the club. Bela wants to rotate the people who go to the parties. Keep things fresh. I’ll probably end up there again in a few weeks, but not tonight.”

He’d miss the tips, it was true, but it would be nice to have the break. He didn’t know how he would react to seeing Castiel there in light of their date planned for the next day.

“Too bad,” Sam said. “You always have good stories about the people at those parties.”

Which reminded Dean, he hadn’t actually told Sam about Castiel yet. He would probably have some interesting input.

“So,” he said casually, “speaking of people at those parties…”

Sam whipped his head around so fast that his hair flew out in all directions, making Dean snort in amusement. “Easy, boy.”

“Did you meet someone?” Sam asked excitedly. For all his calm composure when handling serious situations, Sam really was a bleeding romantic at heart. And he was way, way too invested in Dean’s love life.

“Sort of.” Dean shrugged. “Honestly, he was kind of a dick at first. Real knight-in-shining-armour complex mixed with a lot of eye-fucking. I called him out on it, then he showed up at the club a few days later to apologize.”

“You’re making that up,” Sam said flatly. “People don’t actually do things like that.”

“I am not making it up!” Dean protested. “And trust me, I was as surprised as you are. So whatever, he said he was sorry, then I saw him at the party last week. He basically ran away from me, it was hilarious. But we got to talking later, then I asked him to hang out after, so we went and had burgers at the Roadhouse and talked for a few more hours.”

Sam shook his head. “Can’t wait to tell that story to the grandkids, huh.”

“Shut up. Anyways, we’re going to see the new Marvel movie tomorrow.”

“You’re ditching me for him already, huh? He must be something special.”

Dean winced. He knew Sam was joking, but he didn’t like thinking about it in those terms. It was pretty much always just him and Sam, the two of them against the world. “Sammy, you know I’d never…”

“Oh my god, Dean, stop right there. I was kidding. I’m happy for you, really.” Sam’s expression was open and earnest. “I’m not worried he’s going to steal you away from me or whatever. It’ll be good for you to have someone. I’m not here all the time anyways, and I know you get lonely.”

“Shut up,” Dean said again. 

“So, what’s his name?” A hint of teasing crept back into Sam’s voice.

“Castiel.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “Castiel Novak?” he asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah?” Apparently Dean was the only one who didn’t know or care about who Castiel was. He must have been more cut off from the wider world than he realized.

“Dude,” Sam hissed, “he’s like, crazy rich.”

“Apparently.” Dean shrugged. “He’s not going to be my sugar daddy or anything, though, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“Gross,” Sam said, wrinkling his nose. “But seriously. What’s he like?”

Now that was an interesting question. Dean thought it over for a minute before replying. “Kind of intense?” he said. “Also kind of a dick. But he has this way of looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters. This kind of laser-focus. And man, he has no idea how the real world works. Total ivory tower situation.”

“That’s not exactly a glowing character summary.”

“I know. It’s a weird thing, I’m not going to deny it. I’m just taking it easy, seeing where it goes, you know?”

“Okay,” Sam replied, not sounding entirely convinced. “I’ll hold off on the jokes about the Martha Stewart Weddings cover then. Just make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into, Dean.”

Dean reached over and ruffled his hair. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a movie. Now be quiet, it’s almost time for the dramatic reveal.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he stayed through the rest of the episode. And the next one.

***

By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Dean was practically tearing his own hair out in impatience. That in itself was proof that he was more invested in this thing with Cas than he wanted to admit. No matter how many times he tried to play it cool, to keep Cas guessing, Dean couldn’t lie to himself for long. He wanted Cas.

Judging by the blunt texts Cas sent him Saturday night, he wasn’t alone in that.

_Balthazar’s parties are a lot less interesting when you’re not here._

_These dancers are very talented, but they lack your particular charms._

_I’m looking forward to our date tomorrow._

_What are you wearing?_

That last one was particularly relevant as Dean stood in front of his closet, freshly showered, inspecting his meager wardrobe with a frown on his face. They were just going to a movie. It would be dark in there, so Cas would only really see his outfit for a few minutes. But Dean had both a sense of pride and a teasing edge that combined to push him to find his most flattering outfit.

He eventually settled on his favourite jeans and a red-and-black flannel over a black t-shirt. It was another nice day, so he rolled the sleeves up, grimacing at his winter-pale forearms. At least they were toned enough to make up for it.

His phone beeped with another new message.

_Leaving now. I’ll be there in twenty minutes._

_Sounds good_ , Dean texted back. 

They’d gone back and forth for days about who would drive to the theatre. Castiel insisted that since he had been the one to ask Dean out, he should pick him up. But Dean never liked relinquishing control when there was a vehicle involved. Besides, he didn’t like the thought of being driven around by some stranger. Once Castiel explained that he usually drove himself around during the day and only relied on a driver for events where he would be drinking, Dean grudgingly agreed to be picked up.

He finished fixing his hair in the mirror, relieved that Sam wasn’t home to make fun of him for spending so long getting ready, then grabbed his wallet and his phone and took the elevator down to the ground floor to wait for Castiel.

Only a few minutes passed before a sleek, cherry-red car pulled up in front of the building. Even before Castiel climbed out, Dean knew it would be him. Nobody else visiting this building would be driving a car like that. An Aston Martin, for Christ’s sake.

It was foreign, and over-priced, and okay, fine: totally gorgeous. Dean both sneered at it and admired it. Much like he did its owner, come to think of it.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, waving him over. He looked damn good in a pair of dark jeans and a simple black shirt, expensive-looking sunglasses perched on his nose. “How are you today?”

“Pretty good, you?” 

“Better now,” Castiel replied with a slightly crooked grin. “Shall we?”

He seemed much looser, much more relaxed, somehow. Whatever it was, it was working for him.

“How was your week? Busy, I imagine,” Castiel said, glancing over at Dean as he drove. Dean was relieved to note that he drove easily and confidently. Apparently having a chauffeur didn’t render him completely useless behind the wheel.

“Yeah, but it was okay,” Dean said. “We fixed some poor grad student’s computer right before she had to submit her thesis, and she was so grateful, she baked us cookies.”

Castiel grinned. “As long as they were good cookies.”

“So good.” 

“And your other job?”

Dean hesitated, trying to gauge Cas’ tone. “Pretty much the usual,” he replied. 

“So this ought to be the highlight of your week, then,” Cas said smoothly, and Dean was startled into laughter.

“Yeah, the reviews have been really good so far,” he teased.

Castiel shot him a glare, but his shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Good to know where your priorities are at.”

“Yeah. If you think we’re going to spend the whole movie necking like teenagers, you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” Dean said. Though Marvel movies did tend to have those post-credits scenes, and it would be a good way to pass that time…

“I’ll live.” 

The parking lot was busy, but Cas found a spot near the back and pulled the car in with ease. There was a steady stream of people making their way inside, and Dean cursed himself for forgetting that it was opening weekend. What if the show was sold out? They’d just have to hope for the best.

He made a beeline for the ticket machine once they entered, but Cas stopped him with a gentle hand on his elbow. “I bought tickets online,” he said.

Dean frowned at him. That meant Castiel was paying. And yeah, figuring out money stuff was always awkward when you first started dating someone, but the clear difference in their economic status made it even worse. And he could have let Dean know, at least, instead of just doing it. 

“Kinda high-handed of you,” he muttered.

Cas blinked at him, then rolled his eyes. “Really?” he said. “Dean. I simply knew that it would be busy, and wanted to guarantee that we would get seats. I have a lot of free time, so it was easy for me to purchase the tickets in advance. Will it make you feel better if you buy the popcorn?”

“Yes,” Dean admitted. 

“Good,” Castiel said with a sharp nod. “I like Skittles, too.”

For some reason, the thought of Castiel-- Castiel Novak, exceedingly wealthy layabout, who could definitely afford to eat the finest of imported European chocolates every single day-- enjoying something as simple as Skittles made Dean laugh out loud. The tension broken, Cas smiled back at him, and they joined the line for concessions without further argument.

The theatre was packed, but they were able to find decent seats about two-thirds of the way back. The armrest between their seats was raised as they settled in, but Dean lowered it so he could use the cupholder, avoiding Cas’ gaze as he did. He didn’t want him to think he was deliberately putting a barrier between the two of them. If Dean was really concerned about propriety, he wouldn’t have sent Cas a picture of him in his underwear after their first date.

“I hate how many commercials they show before the movie starts now,” Castiel commented as the lights dimmed and a car advertisement started playing. “I just want to watch the movie. Maybe see a few trailers.”

“Agreed,” Dean said. “Too bad you can’t fast-forward them.”

He could just make out Castiel’s smile in the light from the screen. They fell silent after that, waiting for the movie to start.

The opening credits were met with cheers, and Dean lost himself in the familiar world of his comic-book heroes. He glanced over at Castiel a few times, watching his reactions, and was pleased to see how engaged he looked. He hadn’t been entirely enthusiastic about the choice of movie, but it looked like he was enjoying it now. Good.

About halfway through, Dean finished his drink, and instead of putting it back in the cupholder, he placed the empty cup on the ground and raised the armrest between them. With absolutely no attempt at subtlety, he reached over and took hold of Cas’ hand. Cas looked over at him, surprised, but then adjusted his grip more comfortably.

If it had been any other movie, Dean probably would have pushed it further, but he really did want to focus on what was going on, so they held hands chastely until the last scene.

Once the screen went dark, however, all bets were off. Castiel turned to him with a smile on his face, lips parting as though to make a comment, but Dean didn’t really feel like talking. He leaned over and planted a kiss on Castiel’s lips, drawing a startled noise from him. He got with the program quickly, though, pulling Dean closer by their joined hands and returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm. 

They only broke apart when the theatre erupted into cheers once more, signaling that the post-credits scene was starting. It was a total teaser for the next film, and only lasted about thirty seconds. 

“Honestly,” Cas whispered in his ear as the screen went dark again, “we should have just kept kissing and watched it on YouTube later.”

“Man after my own heart,” Dean said, giving him another quick kiss. As much as he would have liked to stay there, kissing and laughing, the rest of the moviegoers probably wouldn’t appreciate it. So he reluctantly pulled Cas to his feet and down the steps, emerging blinking in the brighter lights of the theatre lobby. 

“Did you like it?” he asked as they headed for the exit.

“I did,” Castiel replied. “And I’m not only saying that because of the last few minutes.”

Dean smirked. “Welcome to the Dean Winchester movie experience.”

“Winchester?” Castiel repeated quizzically. 

Oh, right. Dean had never properly introduced himself using his real name. “Yeah,” he said. “I keep the first name for performing ‘cause it’s just easier that way.”

“I like it better than Smith,” Castiel declared.

“Yeah, me too.”

There was a brief moment of awkwardness as they exited the building, where Dean wasn’t sure what to do next. He didn’t have plans for the rest of the day, and he didn’t really want the date to end, but he didn’t know if Castiel felt the same. 

“So,” he said, striving for casual and probably missing his mark by a mile, “what now?”

“It’s still early,” Castiel said, checking the time on his phone. 

“Too early for dinner,” Dean agreed. He glanced out at the parking lot, then back at Cas. “Coffee?”

“I am rather fond it.” Castiel smiled, then tossed his keys at Dean, who caught them instinctively.

“Seriously?” he asked, delighted. He would never give up his Baby, but part of him had been itching to get behind the wheel of Cas’ car since he first saw it pull up in front of his building.

“I saw the way you were looking at it earlier.” Castiel sounded amused. 

“Sweet.” Dean led them through the parking lot, running an admiring hand over the car’s surface before sliding into the driver’s seat.

He adjusted the mirrors slightly, and then they were off. He felt like a kid with a new toy, loving the way the car responded to his touch. Castiel let him enjoy the ride in silence, but every time Dean glanced over, he was smiling. 

Dean was tempted to take them on a longer route just to extend his time behind the wheel, but he really did want a coffee too. Maybe Cas would let him drive home. 

His favourite coffee shop was closed on Sundays, unfortunately, so he took them to his back-up. Like the theatre, it was crowded, but they managed to find a small table tucked into the back corner. Dean guarded it fiercely while Cas went to get them their drinks, coming back with a plain drip coffee for Dean and a latte for himself.

“This place is nice,” Castiel commented, looking around with interest. “I’ve never been here before.”

“For some reason, I get the sense that hanging out in coffee shops isn’t really your thing,” Dean said drily.

The corner of Castiel’s mouth quirked up. “You would be correct.”

“But yeah, it is nice,” Dean continued. “My favourite place is closed on Sundays, which sucks because it’s my one day off, but I make plenty of visits during the week while I’m out doing pick-ups and deliveries or whatever.”

“You’re a coffeeshop connoisseur, then?” Castiel asked. 

“They’re good places to hang out, and lots of them around here are small, local businesses.” Dean shrugged. “I like supporting the little guys.”

“So if I were to tell you that I generally find myself at Starbucks…”

Dean threw him a dirty look. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I am.” Castiel grinned. “I usually just make coffee at home.”

Dean considered this for a second. “You’re kind of anti-social, aren’t you?”

Castiel took a sip of his latte before replying. “I suppose you could say that. Whether it’s more out of nature or more out of habit, I’m not entirely sure.”

“Right.” Dean remembered what Castiel had told him about barely being in contact even with his own siblings. That didn’t sound like someone who was used to being around people much. “But Balthazar’s your friend, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, and he sounded like he meant it. “Though we don’t have a typical friendship, either. We’ve known each other for a long time. Long enough that we don’t need to have deep conversations, because we understand one another implicitly.”

“Sounds almost like me and Sam. Except maybe a bit more equal footing, since I tend to act the protective big brother a lot of the time.” 

That made Castiel smile. “Do you scare off prospective dates? Ask them their intentions towards your dear little brother?”

Dean snorted. “I have, yeah. But the kid’s taller than me, it would look pretty weird if I tried that now.”

“It sounds nice, your relationship.” There was a hint of something that might have been wistfulness in Cas’ voice. It made Dean’s heart turn over in his chest, and he hastily took a sip of his coffee to cover his reaction.

This date was supposed to be more flirtation, less feeling. He was obviously getting soft in his old age. 

“It is,” he said. He didn’t want to make Cas feel bad about his own less-than-ideal family dynamics, but he couldn’t downplay how important Sam was to him either. “It’s gonna suck when he goes back to California at the end of the summer.”

“I can offer you one of my brothers instead,” Castiel said solemnly. “Gabriel is fun, but flighty. Michael is charming and personable and utterly ruthless.”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “I think I’ll pass.” 

“A sister, then?” Castiel teased. “Anna is artistic and passionate and reckless. Hael is also reckless, but spoiled and demanding, as is to be expected from the baby of the family.”

“That sounds even worse.” Dean shuddered. “I’m beginning to sense why you don’t spend a lot of time with your family. No offense, but they don’t sound that great.”

“Oh, they have their good qualities as well,” Castiel said. “And I’m sure if you asked them, they would tell you I’m overly sarcastic, unfeeling, and vain.”

That wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Dean stifled a laugh. “Okay, I take your point. We’ve all got our good sides and our bad sides.”

Castiel’s gaze was sharp. “What are your bad sides, Dean?”

Dean felt a shiver run through his entire body at the way Castiel said the word _bad_. It made him think all sorts of naughty, wonderful things. Unfortunately, they were in a public place. 

“I guess you could say I’m a bit reckless too,” he offered instead. “Bit of a thrill-seeker.”

“That doesn’t sound too awful.”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see if there’s anything else you come up with.” Dean held Castiel’s gaze, a hint of challenge in his eyes. Castiel swallowed visibly, but he never broke eye contact. 

“I look forward to it.”

There wasn’t much Dean could say in response that would be appropriate for their current location, so he just grinned and moved on. “So,” he said. “Apparently I’m the only one in the world who doesn’t know anything about your family. Well, now I do, I guess. What’s a guy like you doing living in a town like this?”

“The family home is in upstate New York,” Castiel replied, leaning back in his chair. “But once the trust funds kicked in at twenty-one, most of us relocated around the country.”

“And you didn’t pick L.A, or New York City, or even, I don’t know, Atlanta?” Dean asked skeptically.

“They’re too busy,” Castiel said. “Remember: kind of anti-social. In a bigger city like that, there would be more social obligations, more of an expectation for me to be a public figure. Here...I can just be an eccentric millionaire who spends most of his days lounging in monogrammed bathrobes, reading.”

Dean pushed aside the image of Cas in a monogrammed bathrobe, though he was sure he would revisit it another time. “But you still go to your friend’s parties. You’re not a total hermit.”

Castiel laughed. “As I believe I may have implied in a previous conversation, it’s not socializing that those parties tend to provide for me.”

Right. The parties were just convenient places to find willing partners for the night. That’s what Castiel had wanted from him, that first night.

And now? Dean wasn’t sure what Castiel wanted. But he seemed content to spend time with Dean outside of the bedroom, so if what he was saying was true, that made Dean special.

Dean liked feeling special.

“That sounds kinda overly-scheduled.” He was pushing the bounds of propriety, asking about Cas’ sex life, but he was intrigued. “Every Saturday, go to your friend’s house, find a guy to take home. Lather, rinse, repeat. Doesn’t that take all the fun out of it?”

Castiel pitched his voice lower, ensuring they wouldn’t be overheard. “First of all, not necessarily a guy. And second, I find ways to make it fun.”

Fuck, now Dean was getting turned on in the middle of his second-favourite coffeeshop on a Sunday afternoon. He knew he shouldn’t have asked. 

“That’s not fair,” he protested.

“You were the one who asked,” Castiel replied, looking completely unruffled by the discussion.

Dean scowled at him. “I guess I wasn’t really expecting an answer.”

“Why on Earth wouldn’t I answer? I’m not ashamed to say I enjoy sex. And if you weren’t already thinking of me that way, you wouldn’t have sent me that photo last weekend.”

“Cas,” Dean hissed, looking around frantically. Nobody appeared to be listening to them, but still. “Don’t talk about that here!”

It’s not that he was ashamed of it. Cas was right, it was a pretty bold move, and yeah, it had been calculated to fan the flames that were already building between the two of them. But that didn’t mean Dean wanted to discuss it now.

Cas looked at him for a second, then pulled out his phone and started typing. Dean was about to call him out for being impolite, but then his own phone buzzed with a new text message. Frowning, he checked and saw that it was from Cas.

“I’m sitting right here,” he pointed out. 

Cas just nodded at the phone, indicating that Dean should read the message.

_I came so hard, touching myself that night._

Dean felt all the blood drain from his face, heading south. There was a self-satisfied little smirk on Castiel’s face that Dean kinda wanted to punch off. Or maybe kiss off. Yeah, that was probably the more satisfying option.

“You done with your coffee?” he asked abruptly.

Cas didn’t even bother replying, just stood and started making his way to the door. Dean followed eagerly.

This was so dumb. Reckless, just like he labelled himself earlier. They weren’t teenagers anymore, you’d think they’d be able to control themselves.

But when Castiel had him pulled as close as possible with the gearshift between them in front seats of his car, kissing him like his life depended on it, Dean couldn’t bring himself to care.

He did spare a second to mentally thank whoever invented tinted windows, though.

“Fuck,” Dean murmured as Cas mouthed his way across the line of his jaw and under his ear. “Cas…”

Castiel didn’t answer, just returned his lips to Dean’s, swallowing any more noises he threatened to make. 

As much as Dean was enjoying being ravished, he didn’t like the thought of Cas having the upper hand for too long. So he reached around and carefully ran the tips of his fingers down his back, testingly. His hunch was correct: Castiel shuddered with his entire body, back arching into Dean’s hands.

So Dean repeated the motion with a bit more force, loving the breadth of Castiel’s shoulders and the play of his muscles under his touch. 

“Dean,” Castiel gasped out. His mouth slid away from Dean’s for a second as he lost control, and Dean grinned at him, triumphant.

“Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

Castiel looked at him for a long moment, his cheeks flushed, still slightly out of breath. He looked dangerous and gorgeous and absolutely perfect. Dean thought he would respond in kind, and was tensed in eager anticipation, waiting to see what move Castiel would make.

Castiel’s hands didn’t move from their place on Dean’s shoulders, though his grip did tighten slightly as he pulled Dean even closer and pressed their lips back together. It was a deep, thorough kiss, the kind that felt like an entire conversation. Dean did his best to keep up.

He pulled away after a minute, though, and shifted his position on the seat, trying to get more comfortable despite the situation in his jeans. Judging by the way Castiel’s eyes dropped to his lap, he was less than subtle about it.

“I think you should probably take me home,” Dean said softly.

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “Take you home as in drop you off with a polite kiss at the door, or take you home as in…”

“I think the first option would be smarter.” _But the second one would be more fun_ , said the treacherous voice in Dean’s head. 

“Very well.” Castiel’s voice had gone cool. Was he disappointed? Dean wanted to take it back, to kiss him again, to pull him into the backseat and show him the nice red boxer-briefs he was wearing today.

But if he did that….that might be the end of it.

And Dean wasn’t willing to give this up quite yet.

“Do you want to drive?”

Dean snuck a glance over at Castiel, and was relieved to see a smile on his face. 

“Hell yes,” he said, and took the keys from him. Driving was a good distraction, giving him something to focus on other than his frustration.

He pulled up in front of his building not long later, and they both got out of the car. He passed the keys back over, then stuck his hands in his pockets, unsure what to say. 

“Can I see you again next week?” Castiel asked. 

Dean sighed with relief. “Yeah, Cas, I’d like that.”

“Sunday again?”

“Probably easiest,” Dean agreed.

“It will be a long week.”

“Sorry.” Dean winced. He’d have to find some way to keep Castiel’s interest during the week, otherwise he might just be forgotten when Cas found someone else to take home from some party.

“Don’t apologize,” Cas said warmly. He brushed his hand lightly across Dean’s cheek. “I’ll look forward to it all week.”

Dean leaned into the touch slightly, then grabbed Castiel’s hand, using it to pull him in for another kiss that left them both panting. “Until Sunday,” he said.

“Until Sunday.”

He stood and waved as Cas pulled away, watching until he couldn’t see the car anymore before he turned and went inside. 

His phone beeped with a new message just as he entered the apartment.

_How many more days until Sunday?_

It was a sweet sentiment, but Dean still didn’t know exactly what to make of it. Did Castiel want to see him again because he genuinely liked spending time with him? Or was he just going through the motions until he could get Dean into bed?

He had basically admitted that he preferred one-night stands, and he’d been chasing Dean since the start, but to what end? Dean definitely wanted to sleep with him, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he didn’t want it to be a one-time thing, and he didn’t know how to ask Castiel what his intentions were.

At least he had a whole week to figure out his next move.


	5. Chapter 5

The more time Castiel spent with Dean, the more confused he became. He spent all week replaying their last date in his mind, trying to determine where he had gone wrong. He really didn’t get the impression that Dean was shy about sex-- between the racy photos and the way he kissed like he was on a mission, it was clear he was attracted to Castiel and had no qualms about acting on that attraction. 

If he was being honest with himself, as he tried his best to be, Castiel could admit that this situation was far from ordinary for him. He never spent so long getting to know someone before getting them into bed. He had never really needed to do so. 

Which led him to the conclusion that it had to be about more than just sex. That if one night was all he wanted from Dean, he would have given up several weeks ago. 

It gave him a headache just thinking about it. Castiel was so far out of his depths, he might as well have been a beached whale. 

He had little desire to spend another Saturday night at one of Balthazar’s parties, but he did think he could use his advice, so he made plans to meet up with him at a cocktail lounge they were both fond of on Friday night. 

“So,” Balthazar said as they settled into their booth, “you said this was important. You’re not moving, are you? God, Castiel, please don’t leave me alone here.”

“I’m not moving,” Castiel assured him. “I asked to see you because I need your advice.”

“You’re asking for help?” Balthazar said incredulously. “That’s rather unlike you.”

“It’s an unusual situation.” Castiel would endure Balthazar’s teasing as long as he proved helpful in the end.

Balthazar studied him for a second, then broke out into a wide grin. “This is about the stripper, isn’t it!”

“His name is Dean, and you know that very well, but yes, it is about him,” Castiel said tightly.

The conversation halted while their server came to take their drink orders, and then Balthazar immediately relaunched his series of questions. 

“You’ve been seeing him?”

“Twice, if you count the first night after the last party of yours.” It felt like longer, somehow. Like Dean had already become such an important fixture in Castiel’s life.

“And you have plans to continue seeing him?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Balthazar spread his hands wide. “You’re dating, Castiel. I’m so proud of you.”

Castiel hesitated. He and Balthazar had always been quite open with each other about their sexual experiences, but he still felt slightly uncomfortable bringing up his concerns. More proof that there was something different about Dean.

“We haven’t slept together yet,” he admitted quietly.

Their server chose that exact moment to reappear with their drinks, and her eyes went wide at Castiel’s words, but to her credit, she refrained from making a comment. At least now he had a drink to bolster him through this conversation.

“That’s _very_ unlike you,” Balthazar said. “Cheers to Dean, making you work for it.”

“Am I doing something wrong?” Castiel asked, hating how pathetic he sounded. He took a large sip of his elderflower gin and tonic, enjoying the bite of the gin on his tongue.

“Maybe he’s shy,” Balthazar suggested. “It seems unlikely, given his profession, but people contain multitudes.”

“You wouldn’t think he was shy if you saw the picture he sent me after our first date,” Castiel muttered.

Balthazar’s eyes lit up over the rim of his martini glass. “Oh, how delicious. You’re right though, that does throw a wrench in the theory. But you’ve only seen each other a few times. Maybe he’s waiting for the third date? A silly rule, if you ask me, but a commonly accepted one.”

“Maybe.” Castiel didn’t get the impression that Dean cared much about the rules of dating either, but it was the least worrisome explanation.

“Let me ask you this: are you bothered by the lack of naked bodies because that’s all you can think about, or because you’re afraid it’s a sign that something bigger is wrong?”

Castiel didn’t hesitate before answering. “The latter.”

“Good,” Balthazar said approvingly. “I know this all new to you, darling, so let me tell you: this is a good thing. Dating someone, especially in the early stages, is supposed to make you flustered and frustrated. It means you’re invested.”

“I’m unaccustomed to being invested,” Castiel replied. “I’m not sure I like it.”

“You will. I promise.”

“So what do I do? And no, I don’t mean seduction techniques. I don’t want to hear those from you,” Castiel said with a slight shudder. “But it’s been so casual so far. Burgers, a movie, coffee. How do I signal that I am in fact invested, and not only in getting him into bed?”

It was a bit embarrassing to have to ask for so much help, but Castiel trusted Balthazar on this. For all his dramatic airs, he was a romantic at heart, and though he liked his flings as much as Castiel did, he had far more experience with actual relationships. 

“Ah, you want to woo him,” Balthazar said, his delight evident in his voice. “How sweet. You said you’re seeing him tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes, but we don’t have exact plans.”

“Take him for a nice dinner,” Balthazar suggested. “It’s a good chance to talk. Somewhere cozy and intimate. Compliment him. But keep it genuine. Listen attentively. And for god’s sake, keep that stubble you’ve got going on. You look absolutely delicious with it.”

“Doesn’t that seem a bit too….easy?” Castiel asked. 

“Sometimes the simplest solutions are best.” Balthazar drained the last of his drink and signaled to their server for another round. “Now, unless you have any more questions, I absolutely must tell you about what you missed last week.”

Castiel only devoted half his attention to Balthazar’s gossip, still thinking about the advice he had been given. Now to find the perfect place for their date…

***

On Sunday morning, Castiel texted Dean to confirm their plans for the evening.

_Dinner at 7? I’ll pick you up._

_Sounds good._

He hesitated over the wording of the next message, but he didn’t want Dean to ever feel uncomfortable, so it was probably best to give him a warning. _Dress nice._

_??? Okay._

Satisfied, Castiel put his phone away, wondering how to pass the hours until it was time to leave. He went for a run, showered, made lunch, and eventually settled in with a new book. He’d been hearing good things about the recent TV adaptation, but he always wanted to read the source material first. It held his attention through the afternoon, and then he began the long process of getting himself ready.

He settled on charcoal slacks and a deep blue shirt that he knew brought out the colour of his eyes. Rubbing thoughtfully at his lightly stubbled jaw, he decided to follow Balthazar’s advice and didn’t bother shaving. He hoped Dean would like it as well.

He flipped idly through the news stations for a few minutes, just killing time, and after a final pat of his pockets to make sure he had his wallet, keys, and phone, he was out the door.

Dean met him at the entrance to the building again. Castiel wondered about his apartment-- the building was older, but it was in decent shape. Dean obviously didn’t want him to come up, though: another barrier he placed between the two of them.

He looked fantastic, as he always did, in a dark purple button down and black pants that clung tightly to the curve of his ass. Castiel did his best not to stare as Dean slid into the passenger seat, then leaned over to press a quick kiss to Castiel’s cheek.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Castiel replied. “You look wonderful.”

“Thanks,” Dean replied, ducking his head slightly. “You look pretty damn good yourself.”

“Thank you.” Feeling ridiculously pleased with the compliment, Castiel pulled away from the apartment building, heading back to the centre of town. “How was your week?”

They’d texted back and forth a bit, of course, but Dean’s schedule was incredibly busy, and he didn’t often have time for sustained conversations, even via text. 

“Pretty boring, honestly,” Dean said. “Sam’s been really busy down at the station. If they were actually paying him, he’d be rolling in overtime. So it’s been kinda quiet at home, you know?”

Castiel’s house was never anything but quiet, really. But he nodded anyways. “Still, it must be nice to have some time to yourself.”

“Yeah. I’ve been taking too many naps, though,” Dean laughed. “Short ones between jobs, but still. Actually had one this afternoon. Curled up right in the sun like some sort of cat.”

That was a rather nice image. Castiel pictured he and Dean cuddled up together, on the couch or even in bed, fully dressed but sleeping away the afternoon. He hoped someday he might get the chance to experience it.

“I don’t nap often,” he said, “but that’s probably because I love to sleep in. I’m not a morning person at all.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” Dean teased. 

They soon pulled up in front of the restaurant Castiel had picked, a classic French place with outstanding reviews. As he searched for a parking spot, however, he noticed the strange look on Dean’s face.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said with a laugh that sounded forced. “This place is pretty fancy, though.”

Was he worried about his outfit? “You look fine.”

“Not really my concern,” Dean muttered.

“What is it, then?” He should have known better than to try to surprise Dean. He had such strong opinions on things, it stood to reason that he would be picky about his food.

“You don’t need to keep trying to impress me,” Dean said in a rush. “I know you’re rich, okay? And I know I’m not. And this--” he waved a hand at the restaurant--”just keeps reminding me of it”

Castiel never thought about it that way. He just wanted to do something nice for Dean. To woo him, as Balthazar had suggested. 

“I just wanted--” he started, but Dean cut him off.

“Do you even like French food?” he asked.

Castiel blinked at him, unsure as to why that was relevant. “It’s not my favourite,” he admitted. “But it’s a very well-reviewed establishment, and….alright, I suppose I wanted to impress you.”

“Haven’t you figured out by now that your money doesn’t impress me?” Dean said, a little sadly. 

It really wasn’t supposed to be about the money, but the more Castiel thought about it, the more he realized it could easily be interpreted that way. Accustomed to always having the most expensive things in life led him to consider those things the best, but that wasn’t always the case-- plenty of things were both over-priced and overrated. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, trying not let his frustration show in his voice. “I seem to keep messing up the simplest things.”

Dean reached out and took his hand. The simple contact grounded Castiel, helping him get himself back under control.

“What is your favourite food?” he asked gently.

“I like Italian better than French,” Castiel replied.

“That’s perfect.” Dean grinned. “Charlie was just telling me about this new pizza place that opened up a couple of blocks from here. Family-run, woodfire oven, the whole deal.”

“That sounds great.” Castiel reluctantly slid his hand out of Dean’s grip so he could take the wheel once more. “Thank you, Dean.”

It didn’t take them long to arrive at the pizza place, and as soon as they got out of the car, Castiel could smell the oven going. They had to wait a few minutes to be seated, but Castiel took the crowd as a good sign. The interior was cozy, with an exposed brick wall and soft lighting, and the staff were all smiling even as they rushed about, trying to keep up with their tables.

They were eventually shown to a table in the far corner of the room, giving them some semblance of privacy despite the number of people around. Dean seemed much more relaxed than he had been in the car, looking around with interest, and Castiel just observed him for a few minutes, admiring the way the lights emphasized the cut of his jaw. 

“Do you drink wine?” he asked after a moment. He figured it was best to consult Dean on everything from here on out. He didn’t want to cause him any further distress, or risk angering him. 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t mind it, but I don’t go out of my way to drink it,” he said. 

Castiel glanced at the groups seated near them, noticing pitchers of sangria on many of their tables. “Sangria?” he suggested. 

“Oh thank god,” Dean murmured under his breath. “I was eyeing that as well, but you never know how another dude is going to react to anything that isn’t beer or simple drinks.”

Castiel crinkled his nose in disapproval. “I’ve never cared for such hyper-masculine bullshit,” he said. He was glad to see that Dean didn’t either.

“Awesome.”

They ordered a small pitcher of sangria to share, keeping in mind that Castiel would have to drive them home, and it arrived soon afterwards.

“Here’s to date number three,” Castiel said, raising his glass for a toast. Something flickered across Dean’s face for a split-second, too quickly for Castiel to decipher it, but then it morphed into a smile. 

“To date number three,” Dean said. “You know, they say after three times, something becomes a tradition.”

“I rather like the sound of that,” Castiel replied. “Though I don’t really think either of us are big on tradition.”

“Maybe not,” Dean agreed, still smiling. “But either way. This is good.”

“It is.” Castiel stretched out his hand and took hold of Dean’s across the table. Dean glanced at him, surprised, but then clasped back. 

“You said your friend Charlie recommended this place?” he asked, remembering Balthazar’s advice to ask questions. 

“Friend, boss, queen,” Dean said with a laugh. “Yeah, she’s always up to date on the newest and coolest places in town. It helps that she spends pretty much every waking hour staring at a screen of some kind, so she gets info fast.”

“Did you know her before you started working for her?”

“No.” Dean smiled, obviously remembering. “I was just looking for a job I could do without many qualifications, and her ad caught my eye. I had no idea what to expect, but I’m so glad I decided to e-mail her back about it.”

His face always went so soft when he talked about people he cared about--Charlie, Sam. Castiel was impressed at the way Dean seemed to form bonds so closely and so easily. He could only dare to hope that someday, Dean’s face might wear the same expression when he spoke of him. 

“Well, if ever I have trouble with my electronics, I’ll know who to call,” he said. “Besides, I hear their pick-up and delivery man is very attractive.”

Dean groaned, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Don’t tell me you read that review too.”

“Review?” Castiel asked, curious. He was just trying to pay Dean a compliment.

“Oh, I guess not then.” Dean rolled his eyes. “A few months back, there was this lady who wanted her computer fixed, and she was flirting with me _hard_. She was cute, I guess, but picking people up on the job isn’t exactly professional, and I wasn’t that into it anyways. She gave us a really good rating online, but spent most of the review talking about me instead of about the company or how they helped her.”

“That doesn’t seem like it would be helpful to anyone reading it,” Castiel commented. “But surely you weren’t surprised. You must be used to a certain amount of attention.”

“Well, yeah, when I’m at my other job,” Dean said. “Never really expected it to be such a big deal as an errand boy.”

“Is that the job title you put on your resume?” Castiel teased.

“Nah, Charlie says I get to be an executive assistant or something like that,” Dean laughed. “And she’s the boss, so whatever she says goes.”

The pizza they had chosen to share arrived, and the conversation faltered slightly as they both dug in. Castiel hummed in appreciation as he took his first bite. “This is excellent.”

Dean’s mouth was too full to answer, but he nodded enthusiastically. “No wonder it’s so packed in here,” he said after he finished chewing.

“Obviously Charlie wasn’t the only one who heard good things,” Castiel commented, reaching for another slice. “Speaking of reviews, we ought to leave them one later.”

“Great sangria, great pizza, great staff,” Dean said. “That’s all anyone needs to know.”

“The company’s pretty great too.” That was probably a terrible line. Castiel was terrible at this. 

Dean’s eyes crinkled up in amusement, though. “Mighty kind of you to say.”

“It’s new for me, being kind.” It was also probably a bad idea to keep bringing up his flaws, but maybe he wanted to keep sabotaging himself for some reason. 

“Well, practice makes perfect,” Dean suggested. “You could even try it on someone other than me, if you felt really daring.”

“Maybe someday.”

“Sorry to change the subject,” Dean said, not sounding sorry at all, “but I saw an article about your sister in the paper yesterday. Anna. About the exhibit she has opening in Seattle.”

“Ah, yes,” Castiel winced. “I’ve been avoiding telling her I won’t be attending.”

“Why?”

“Why am I avoiding telling her, or why am I not going?”

“Don’t be annoying,” Dean said. “Why aren’t you going?”

Castiel took a sip of his sangria and shrugged loosely. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Dude,” Dean said disapprovingly, “she’s your sister.”

“And she’ll barely spare a minute to talk to me,” Castiel said wearily. “We’ll pose for a few photos, compliment each other’s outfits, and then she’ll find more interesting people to talk to and leave me alone to make small talk with strangers, or worse, old acquaintances I haven’t seen in years.”

He was exhausted just thinking about it. 

“You’ll never fix your relationship if you don’t start somewhere,” Dean said. “Maybe she’s reaching out to you because she wants to see you. Did you ever consider that?”

Castiel snorted. “I highly doubt that. There’s nothing to fix, Dean, it isn’t broken. It just is what it is.”

Dean fiddled with his napkin, not meeting Castiel’s eyes. “All I’m saying is, you should appreciate your family a bit more. At least they’re still here.”

Castiel vaguely remembered Dean implying that his father had passed away, and he’d never mentioned his mother at all, and now all the pieces finally clicked into place. “Dean, I didn’t--” 

“It’s fine, Cas,” Dean said. “It’s fine.”

He still felt wretched, though, and the silence grew between them. Castiel twisted uncomfortably in his seat, cursing himself for his thoughtlessness. 

“Seattle’s nice, though,” Dean said eventually. “Haven’t been there in years, but I remember liking it.”

“Have you travelled much?” Castiel asked, seizing upon the chance to turn the conversation back to lighter topics. 

“Only within the States, but yeah, Dad used to take us on a lot of road trips, and we moved around a lot as kids,” Dean said. 

“In your car?” It was a charming image, a young Dean riding around in the car that he now owned.

“Yep,” Dean said proudly. “She’s seen a lot of this country, and she’s still going strong.”

“Where was your favourite place?”

Dean thought about it for a second, then smiled. “I reserve the right to delay answering that until I’ve been everywhere.”

Castiel laughed. “Very clever,” he said. 

“You’ve probably seen a lot more of the world, though, huh,” Dean said, looking at him thoughtfully. 

“Not as much as you might think. Anti-social, remember. Travelling tends to involve a fair bit of...talking to people. I did more of it when I was younger. Balthazar spent an entire summer dragging me around Europe, for example.” Castiel smiled as he remembered all the trouble they got up to.

“Yikes,” Dean winced. “Poor Europeans.”

“Rich Europeans,” Castiel corrected. “Quite happy to play host to equally-rich Americans.”

Their pizza was finished, and Castiel contemplated asking for a dessert menu, but he was feeling quite full. “Do you want dessert?” he asked Dean.

“Definitely not,” Dean said with a laugh. “I’m so full.”

There was still a line out the door, and though Castiel didn’t want the night to be over yet, he did feel bad taking up a table when so many people were clearly waiting. Surprised at his own level of consideration, he pointed the crowd out to Dean. 

“You’re right,” Dean said, looking over at the line. “We should let these people experience the joy that is this pizza.”

Castiel signaled to their server to bring their bill, and was surprised when Dean didn’t fight him about paying this time. He didn’t mention it, though, not wanting to start another argument. 

They made their way out to the car, and Castiel racked his brain for ideas on how best to extend their evening. It was fairly nice out-- maybe a walk? 

“So I don’t know about you,” Dean said as they reached the car, “but I’m not really ready to call it a night quite yet.”

Castiel let out a sigh of relief. “Nor am I,” he admitted. “Thoughts?”

“Feeling pretty lazy, honestly,” Dean said. “Wanna just hang out, maybe watch a movie?”

“I have a home theatre,” Castiel offered tentatively. 

Dean grinned at him. “Sounds perfect.”

He didn’t ask to drive this time, for whatever reason, so Castiel got behind the wheel. “You didn’t try to steal my car this time,” he joked.

“It’s pretty nice riding in it too,” Dean said with a little laugh. “And you look really good from where I’m sitting.”

“Flatterer.”

“I tell it like it is.”

The house was dark when they pulled up, and Dean looked around with interest as Castiel led him inside and flicked on the lights. He let out a low whistle as he took in the size of the place, turning in a slow circle to take it all in.

“This place is huge,” he said. “What do you even do with all this space?”

“Nothing, really,” Castiel said. “Do you want a tour?”

It would be too much to hope for that Dean would reply with some comment about the tour ending in the bedroom, wouldn’t it?

“That would probably take an hour,” Dean teased. “What’s your favourite room?”

He didn’t even have to think about his answer. “The library.”

“Cool,” Dean said. “Show me that, then it’s movie time.”

Castiel led him up to the library, and enjoyed the way Dean’s eyes widened when he took in the number of books that lined the shelves all around the large room. “Holy shit,” Dean muttered. “You weren’t kidding about liking to read.”

“I find books easier than people,” Castiel commented wryly.

Dean chuckled. “You don’t say.” He picked up the book Castiel had been reading earlier that afternoon, inspecting the cover. “Hey, isn’t there a TV show of this?”

“Yes, but I wanted to read the book first.”

“Makes sense,” Dean nodded. “I think I saw part of the first episode. It was cool, but the main character’s kind of the worst.”

“So I probably shouldn’t tell you that I agree, but I also find him highly relatable,” Castiel joked.

Dean shuddered. “Yikes. But I’ll reserve judgment until later.”

“On me, or on the show?”

“Both,” Dean said with a cheeky grin. “Definitely both. In the meantime, take me to your home theatre.”

“Very well, then,” Castiel said, leading him down to the basement. 

Dean’s eyes lit up as he took in the projector, the surround-sound system, and the long, low couches grouped in the centre of the room. “This is awesome,” he declared.

Castiel was pleased that Dean liked something about his house, at least. “What would you like to watch?”

“Never got to see Star Wars in theatres,” Dean mused. “This is probably about as close as I’ll ever get.”

“That’s easy enough.” Castiel found the first film and set everything up. By the time he turned back to Dean, he was settled into one of the couches, his feet tucked up comfortably beneath him. 

Castiel sat beside him leaving what he thought was an appropriate distance between them, but Dean sighed and grabbed him by the hand, tugging him closer. Surprised, but pleased, Castiel allowed himself to be pulled over. Dean adjusted his position so that his legs were extended, stretched over Castiel’s lap.

It was nice, feeling the warm weight of Dean’s body over his own. Castiel hummed happily and let himself be swept away in the familiar story.

They didn’t speak through the entire movie, though Castiel kept looking over at Dean, watching the way his reactions played themselves out on his face. When it was over, Dean made a happy little sound and settled back against the cushions.

“That was awesome,” he declared. 

Castiel checked the time on his phone. He wasn’t concerned about staying up late, but if Dean had to work the next day…

“Do you want to watch the next one?” he asked.

“No,” Dean said. 

Castiel couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed.

“I had something else in mind,” Dean announced.

A different movie, perhaps? But Castiel’s train of thought screeched to a halt as Dean stood up, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his neck from side to side.

“If we were watching anything else, I would’ve spent the whole time kissing you,” Dean said, somehow managing to sound completely casual about it. “But since you were so good and just let me enjoy it, I’ve got a little treat for you.”

He strode over and turned off the movie, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and hooked it up to the speakers, grinning over his shoulder at Castiel as he did. Castiel, for his part, was still seated on the couch, too stunned to move.

“You just sit back and relax, handsome,” Dean drawled. 

He adjusted the lights slightly, and as the music kicked in, his shadow cast a flickering image on the projector screen behind him. 

It was a different song than any of those Castiel had seen Dean perform to before. There was something looser in his movements, too, something less rehearsed. Like maybe it wasn’t something he had planned before, like it was something new and fresh.

Something just for Castiel.

Dean’s gaze was locked on his as he moved. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, but turned just as the last button popped his free. Taking in the sight of the muscles moving in his back as he pulled it off, Castiel couldn’t find it in himself to be disappointed.

Dean turned back again, sliding one hand over his chest and down his stomach. If Castiel let out a little whimper at the sight, well, Dean probably couldn’t hear him over the music anyways.

His hands played with the edges of his pants, teasing. “Mind if I take these off?” he asked, his voice low. “They’re not the easiest to move in.”

Castiel didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded eagerly instead.

Dean winked at him, then ever-so-slowly undid the zipper on his pants and pulled them down his legs, kicking them away.

If he had whimpered before, now Castiel outright moaned. Dean was wearing a pair of tight, silky-looking boxer-briefs in almost the same shade of purple as the shirt he had tossed carelessly aside. They clung to his hips and thighs perfectly, and even in the dim lighting, Castiel could see the outline of his cock through the fabric. 

“It’s important to be well-coordinated,” Dean murmured, running his hand over the material. “And these feel really nice. Comfort is important, too.”

The situation in Castiel’s pants was far from comfortable. He shifted his weight from one side to the other, aching for some measure of relief.

Dean’s sharp eyes tracked his movements, and his lips curled up in a grin. “Patience,” he said soothingly. “Good things come to those who wait, Cas.”

Hips still swaying to the beat of the song, Dean turned his back to Castiel once more and dropped almost to the ground, then rose slowly. God, his ass looked incredible. Castiel itched to reach out and touch, but he remembered the rules. Not until Dean initiated anything.

Dean faced him once more, and if Castiel wasn’t mistaken, the bulge in his underwear was larger than it had been before. So despite his casual air, Dean wasn’t unaffected either. Good. It was only fair.

He stroked his hand down his chest again, but this time he allowed it to descend lower, just barely brushing over his crotch. Castiel couldn’t contain himself this time, and a whispered “please,” escaped his lips.

Dean paused, his hand hovering over the purple fabric. “Please, what?”

“Please,” Castiel repeated. He didn’t even know what he was asking for. He just wanted more. 

To his dismay, Dean moved his hand away from his groin, returning it to his chest. But at the noise that he made when he rubbed over one of his nipples, Castiel understood: this wasn’t a a step backwards at all.

Dean toyed with his nipples a few seconds longer, his breath hitching, then stroked over his stomach again until his hands were level with the waistband of his underwear. He pulled them down an inch, revealing a flash of one sharp hipbone, then slid them back into place.

Castiel was so hard it almost hurt. He shifted again, and Dean’s eyes dropped to his lap, considering.

“You wanna touch yourself, Cas?” he murmured. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Was this how it was with Dean’s clients? Did he give them private dances in the upstairs rooms at The Diamond Lounge, dancing around while they got themselves off? Was Castiel just another client to him? He shut off his upstairs brain and focused on the fact that Dean had invited him to touch himself. 

Maybe, just maybe, he wanted it as much as Castiel did.

Keeping his eyes locked on Dean’s, Castiel undid his pants, relieving some of the pressure on his aching cock. He wrapped one hand around himself over his boxers, shuddering at the touch.

“Take it out,” Dean whispered, and Castiel obeyed, sliding both his pants and his underwear down so that he was bare to Dean’s heated gaze. 

“That’s nice. You got a nice cock, Cas.” Castiel groaned at the words, stroking himself again. “Now you just stay like that and keep watching me.”

The song changed, but it must have been a specific playlist, because the next track was equally dark and smooth, perfectly in tune with Dean’s movements. He swayed a little closer this time, but still not close enough for Castiel to touch. There was something so intense about just sitting here, touching himself while Dean danced. 

Dean wasn’t just dancing anymore, though. His hands were wandering all over his own body as he moved, and his eyes drifted close several times, lost in his pleasure. It was beautiful to watch, all his raw sensuality on full display. 

One of Dean’s hands brushed over his cock again, and he made a sound audible even over the music. “Dean,” Castiel pleaded. “Please, again.”

Dean repeated his motion, and Castiel dug his free hand into the seat cushion, willing himself not to come there and then. “I want--” he panted, struggling to form the words.

“I know what you want, Cas,” Dean said. “And you’ve been so good, I’m gonna give it to you.”

He toyed with the edge of his boxer-briefs again, but instead of pulling them down, he just slipped his hand inside, his eyes fluttering shut again as he took himself in hand. Then they opened once more, and his mouth lifted in a smile.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he said, exhaling shakily. “God, Cas, the things you do to me.”

“Speak for yourself,” Castiel managed. “Dean, I can’t--”

“Shh, baby,” Dean crooned. “It’s alright.”

Castiel’s head fell back against the couch cushion, his hand moving rapidly over his cock. Fuck, he was so close. 

“You gonna come for me, Cas?” Dean whispered. “Come on, let me see it. Let me see what you look like when you lose control.”

That was it. Castiel was done. His orgasm ripped through him, tearing a drawn-out moan from his lips as he spilled all over his own hand. He lay there, dazed, for a few seconds, before he regained the ability to think, and looked up to see Dean watching him with intense focus.

“Your turn,” he said shakily.

Dean bit his lip as he continued stroking himself, his free hand rubbing and pinching at his nipple. Castiel took note of the way he touched himself and the reactions it provoked, cataloguing them for future reference. 

“Cas,” Dean groaned. “Talk to me.”

Dean wanted him to talk? Oh, now that Castiel could manage. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Castiel told him. “I thought so the first time I saw you. And every time since. You make me think so many things, Dean…. The way you move is like poetry in motion.”

“Are you going to come for me?” he continued. “I’d love to see it, Dean. I didn’t think you could possibly get more gorgeous, but seeing you like this, all your practiced charm falling away, so bare and lovely, just for me…”

“Cas,” Dean said again, practically a growl. “So close.”

“Let go, sweetheart,” Castiel said. He didn’t know where the endearment came from, but it seemed to work in his favour, because Dean let out a broken noise and slumped forward, his hand slowing as he worked himself through his orgasm.

He looked ready to collapse, so Castiel beckoned him forward, heedless of their messy state, and Dean practically fell on top of him, boneless. Castiel reached across him for a tissue, thanking his past self for always keeping a box handy. He passed one to Dean, who grumbled at him but accepted it, doing his best to clean himself up.

Castiel really wanted to kiss him, but he wasn’t sure if that was allowed, so he just enjoyed the closeness of their bodies instead. It took them both a few minutes to regain their breath, and then Dean seemed to realize that he was still practically naked, because he hauled himself off the couch and began putting his clothes back on.

Castiel watched mournfully as Dean’s body was covered up once more. “It’s getting late,” was all he could think to say. He hoped Dean would stay. Even if he did have to work in the morning.

“I’ll call Sam to come get me,” Dean said with a small smile. 

“I can drive you,” Castiel offered immediately.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said. He hesitated for a second, then dropped a light kiss on Castiel’s cheek. “Umn, where’s the bathroom?”

Silently, Castiel pointed to the door in the corner, and watched in disappointment as Dean walked away. A few seconds later, he heard his voice, muffled by the door, clearly asking Sam to come get him. 

He didn’t know why he was so out of sorts. They had just shared an incredible experience, one that was in some ways more intense than most traditional sexual encounters. And there was no way Dean could have been faking his enthusiasm. Even for someone who performed fantasy for a living, that would be impossible.

Dean emerged from the bathroom, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He was all cleaned up, no evidence of what had just happened between them visible to the casual eye. 

Castiel zipped his pants back up and stood, tossing their used tissues into the garbage can, then leading Dean back upstairs to the living room to wait for Sam to arrive.

“So, next Sunday?” Dean asked.

Castiel threw him a sharp look. He had feared this would be their last night together. “Yes, I would like that,” he said.

“Great.” Dean smiled at him. “I know it sucks only seeing each other once a week, but…”

“I understand.” And Castiel did. Just because he never did anything important with his time didn’t mean the same was true for Dean. “It will be worth the wait.”

Castiel received the message that someone was at the gate and punched in the code to allow Sam through, hating the fact that it meant his night with Dean was over.

Dean stepped forward and kissed him properly for the first time that night. Castiel melted into it, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in closer. “Until next week,” Dean whispered as he pulled away. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel replied. He walked Dean to the door, waving to the shadowy figure in the front of the car he assumed must be Sam, and watched as they drove away.

He slumped against the doorframe, suddenly exhausted. As amazing as the night had been, Castiel wanted more. And not just physically. But he didn’t know how to ask for it, how to tell Dean that he thought he was falling for him.

Damn Balthazar and his advice. He would probably say their relationship had progressed-- but why did it feel so much like two steps forward, one step back?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mild non-con touching in this chapter-- basically somebody gets handsy with Dean during a dance.

Dean was in way over his head.

This thing with Cas was supposed to be _fun_. And when they were together, it was. They always had a good time. But at the end of each Sunday, Dean found himself in another spiral of self-doubt, unsure how to interpret whatever had passed between them.

Take that night a few weeks ago, the night he gave Cas a private dance in his basement. Cas had been so sweet, so attentive all night. Even his fuck-up about the choice of restaurant was clearly well-intentioned. But at the same time, every compliment he paid Dean was in regards to his physical appearance. 

Dean liked the attention. Of course he did. It would be hard to keep doing his job if he didn’t. But he wanted Cas to care about more than just his face or his body. And yeah, maybe giving him a dance that turned into the two of them jerking themselves off wasn’t the best idea in that respect. But he didn’t regret it. Christ, how could he? That was one of the hottest things Dean had ever experienced.

They’d been on a few more Sunday dates since then-- brunch, walks in the park, more movie-watching that turned into a pretty intense makeout session, though without the happy endings this time. 

He considered asking Sam what to do, but he knew exactly what his brother would say: _Talk to him, Dean_. Yeah, sure. Like it was just that simple.

It would also be a lot easier if they could see each other more than just once a week, Dean thought. They texted as much as possible, but never about anything deep or serious. Dean knew his lifestyle wasn’t great for dating-- it was why he hadn’t been in a relationship for a few years. But Cas made him want to try. 

Which, when he remembered how pissed he had been at the guy the first time they met, was pretty fucking weird.

Dean’s life had always been kinda unpredictable though. He’d gotten good at just rolling with it. 

This skill of his was on particular display as he arrived at the club on a Thursday night in early July, only to find Bela in the middle of a stare-down with Victor, one of the other male dancers. Dean and Victor got along well, and like any employees, they tended to vent to each other about their boss on occasion. So Dean wasn’t really surprised to see the way Victor’s arms were crossed over his chest, a stubborn look on his face.

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t dance with her.”

“She requested you specifically,” Bela said. There was an edge of steel in her voice, and Dean shuddered. He knew that tone, and it never boded well. “Plus, you’ll look very attractive together. I think it could be very profitable. For all of us.”

“Hey,” Dean said as smoothly as he could, trying to insert himself between the two of them before things got any more tense. “Who wants to dance with Victor?”

“Lily,” Victor said shortly. “I said no.”

Dean couldn’t blame him. The crowds loved Lily, but she was cold and condescending to the other dancers, and the few times Dean had danced with her, she’d taken more than her share of their tips. 

“Doesn’t she usually dance alone?” he asked Bela. “Why the sudden change?”

Bela pressed her lips together tightly. “Lisa needs a few days off. Her son is sick. So we have to reconfigure several of the routines.”

Shit. Poor Ben. Dean made a mental note to text Lisa later, ask her if there was anything she needed. He could bring over some soup, if nothing else. 

“And now she says I have to dance with Lily,” Victor said. “And I’m saying no.”

Dean scratched his head and sighed. Victor and Bela were two of the most stubborn people he knew. This would never get resolved in time if they just kept arguing back and forth. “I can dance with Lily, if you’re cool with Lydia,” he offered.

“Really?” Victor said, clearly surprised. “Yeah, that could work.”

He turned to look at Bela, who was still frowning, but Dean could practically see her brain whirring, figuring out all the routines and how it would work as whole. After a moment of tense silence, she nodded. “Fine.”

She strode off to her office, her heels clicking on the floor. Victor clapped Dean on the back. “Thanks. Seriously. I owe you one.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Dean told him. He already had a few things in mind. Victor didn’t work as many nights as Dean did, and if he could get him to cover a mid-week shift sometime soon, he could free up another evening to spend with Cas. 

He found Lily in the employee lounge, putting away her purse in one of the lockers. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound friendly. “So, we’re going to be doing a few dances together tonight.”

“Don’t drop me,” she said, not evening bothering to turn to look at him.

Dean made a face at her back. She was tiny, and he knew what he was doing. “I’m not going to drop you.”

She didn’t say anything else, just swept out of the room, presumably to go get changed. Dean was left staring after her, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

“Oh, Victor, you owe me big time,” he muttered to himself.

Their first dance went okay, by Dean’s standards. The crowd wasn’t as enthusiastic as it tended to be when he danced with Lisa, and he couldn’t tell if that was because it was still early and there weren’t many people in the audience, or because his chemistry with Lily was basically non-existent. They looked good together, he knew, and they moved well together, but they just didn’t have the same ease that he did with Lisa or some of the other girls, and he wondered if it showed.

Of course, Lily blamed their underwhelming earnings entirely on him.

“This is why I prefer to dance alone,” she hissed at him between sets. “Nobody to bring me down.”

Across the room, Lydia rolled her eyes at Dean, shaking her head at Lily’s antics. “Well, it’s just for a few nights,” he pointed out. “Then we can go back to not speaking. Or touching. Ever.”

“Can’t wait,” Lily replied. She was already distracted, typing something furiously on her phone. Probably tweeting about her subpar co-workers or however she took out her frustrations.

Christ. It was times like this that Dean wished Bela didn’t have a strict no-drinking-on-the-job policy for her dancers. 

He had a few solo routines as well, and his take was pretty good for a relatively slow night. So he definitely wasn’t the problem, despite what Lily thought. He considered telling her this, but it wasn’t worth it. She’d probably rip up his outfits in a fit of jealous rage, or something equally dramatic. 

Their second routine together would be Dean’s last performance of the night. He was tired, but he gritted his teeth and put on his best smile, because he’d be damned if he gave Lily an actual reason to be snarky with him.

The crowd was a lot more enthusiastic this time around. There was a decent amount of applause coming from one group in particular, and Lily seemed energized by the attention. Dean still didn’t like her, but even he could admit, she was good at what she did. 

He wasn’t entirely surprised when Bela came to find them after they left the stage. 

“You’ve been requested for a private dance,” she said. She looked quite pleased about it. Dean hoped this didn’t mean she would consider pairing him with Lily on a more regular basis. 

Lily sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “Oh, alright,” she said, as though she would be doing Bela a favour, not making herself more money.

There was the barest hint of a smirk on Bela’s face as she replied. “Oh, no, darling, not you. Dean.”

Dean looked up, startled. Lily bit her lip, then flounced off, probably to update her Twitter again.

“You were vague on purpose,” he said to Bela accusingly.

She shrugged elegantly. “Perhaps.”

Dean couldn’t deny it was fun to watch Lily get taken down a peg. “Alright,” he said. “Give me five minutes?”

“Of course,” Bela replied. “Room three. Benny will be outside.”

Good. Benny was a solid, steadying presence, and Dean always felt better knowing he was just outside the door when he gave private dances. He wondered who had booked him-- maybe someone from that enthusiastic group during the last dance?

Either way, the extra money would be a blessing.

Dean nodded at Benny as he passed on his way into the room, and got a lazy salute in reply. The room was quiet when he entered, and he didn’t recognize its occupant, a middle-aged man with an intense, almost nervous look on his face.

Closet case, probably. Dean had seen plenty of them in his time.

“Hey, sugar,” he drawled. “Thanks for asking for me. What’s your name?”

He didn’t care, obviously, but people liked it when he called them by name. It helped them forget that Dean was only here because he was paid to be.

“You can call me Alastair.”

Weird name, but not actually the weirdest Dean had ever heard. “Alright then, Alastair. You just sit back, relax, and enjoy.”

Alastair didn’t say another word as Dean began to dance. His silence was a bit unnerving. Usually people liked to keep a running commentary, or asked Dean to move his body in a certain way. But Alastair just…watched. 

Dean was glad he’d only paid for once dance. This guy was giving him the creeps. 

As the song came to a close, Dean swayed closer, dropping into a squat right in front of Alastair. With his back turned, he didn’t see his hand reach out and close over his shoulder. 

Dean almost toppled over, but Alastair’s hand held him steady, pulling him to his feet. “Let go of me,” Dean said. 

He didn’t raise his voice, not wanting to escalate the situation, but he needed to be firm. This happened more often than he’d like, especially during private dances. People got lost in the performance and forgot the rules, or thought that they could break them just because they were paying a bit more.

Alastair’s eyes travelled down his body, and instead of letting Dean go, he moved his hand over his shoulder, towards his chest. 

Alright then. He asked for it.

Dean grabbed him by the wrist and forcibly removed his hand from his body. “No touching,” he ordered. “And time’s up.”

“I’ll pay for a second dance,” Alastair said, hands already reaching out again. 

“No.” There was no way in hell Dean was going to spend another minute with this guy. 

Alastair’s face twisted in displeasure, and he grabbed at Dean again, but Dean was faster. He ducked out of the way and hit the button for security. 

In the split-second it took for Benny to burst through the door, Alastair managed to land a surprisingly strong punch to Dean’s face.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean swore. He probably would have hit him back, paying customer or not, but Benny was already there, dragging Alastair away and not being particularly gentle about it. 

Bela swept in almost right after Benny. “Are you alright?” she asked frantically, her icy composure breaking. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Dean groaned as she tipped his head back to check his injury. “Didn’t think a lanky asshole like him would hit so hard. But I’ve had worse.”

“Not in my club, you haven’t,” Bela muttered darkly. “Come on. I’m taking you to the police station.”

“Police?” Dean asked as she led him back to the employee lounge to change into his normal clothes. “I don’t think I’m going to press charges.”

“Yes, but I want to discuss options for having that man banned from my club, beyond what our own security can accomplish,” Bela said. 

Dean knew she was ruthless, but he was oddly touched by her commitment. It would be nice to know Alastair would never get into the club again, and wouldn’t be able to bother Dean or any of the other dancers.

They waited in the lounge until Zeke, another one of the security guards, came to tell them the police had arrived. Alastair had already been taken down to the station in a separate car. Dean was unsurprised to find Jody Mills waiting for them outside, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

“What did you do to become such a magnet for trouble?” she asked Dean wearily. 

“Hey, I didn’t ask for this,” he protested as he slid into the car.

“I know,” she said, softening. “And we’re on your side, alright?”

They drove to the station in silence, broken only by the sound of Bela typing away on her phone, probably alternating between research on her rights as a business owner and leaving orders for the rest of the staff in her absence. Dean stared out the window moodily, wanting nothing more than to go home and collapse into bed.

Plus, his cheek hurt. And yeah, maybe his pride was a bit wounded too. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself be caught off guard like that. 

The first person they saw when they walked into the station was Sam. He lept to his feet, rushing over to hug Dean, his face worried. “Are you okay, Dean?”

“I’m fine. Other than you cutting off my air supply, I’m fine.” Dean disentangled himself from his brother’s embrace. “What are you doing here?”

“Jody texted me.” Sam nodded to his boss, who was hovering by the door, giving them a moment of privacy. “I took the bus down. She didn’t say much, so I kinda freaked out.”

“I’m fine,” Dean insisted. “This is all Bela’s idea. I just want to go home.”

“And we’ll get you there as soon as possible,” Jody promised, ushering him further into the station. “But first, we’re going to need your statement.”

Dean sighed and followed her back into a surprisingly comfortable office, accepting her offer of coffee. He didn’t think he’d be sleeping for awhile anyway. By the time he recounted his entire night-- no, he didn’t notice Alastair before he booked the private dance, no, he’d never seen him at the club before, yes, it was just the one punch--Dean was exhausted. It took about forty-five minutes all together, but it felt like an eternity.

Finally, Jody nodded. “Well, I think that pretty much covers it,” she announced. “Thanks, Dean. You take care of yourself, okay?”

“You got it.” Dean rose to his feet and allowed Jody to open the door for him, leading him back to the waiting area at the front of the building.

He could see Bela talking to another officer in a room across the hall, and it didn’t look like they were going anywhere anytime soon. Which meant he and Sam would have to take the bus home, or back to the club so he could pick up his car. Neither prospect sounded appealing.

But then he rounded the corner and almost stopped in his tracks when he saw Cas sitting beside Sam, both of them with anxious looks on their faces.

What the hell was Cas doing here? How did he even...Dean looked at Sam and read the explanation on his features. Somehow Sam got hold of his number and called him. Of course he did.

“Hey,” Dean said, trying to sound cheerful despite his exhaustion. “Nice to see you not on a Sunday, Cas.”

Cas took a step towards him, his arms raising slightly and then falling back to his sides. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, eyes locked on Dean’s. 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean replied. “I just want to go home.”

Cas nodded briskly, like he was pleased to have a concrete task he could accomplish. “Do you want to go to the club and pick up your car?”

“I’ll go in the morning.” Dean raised his hand to cover a massive yawn. “If you could just drop Sam and I off, that would be awesome.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t rush in tomorrow,” Jody called to Sam. “You’ll need your sleep.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, then joined Dean and Cas by the door. “Ready?”

“Absolutely.” 

Cas kept glancing at Dean as he drove, but he didn’t say anything. Sam was quiet in the backseat, and Dean almost dozed off a few times, comforted by the familiar motion of the car. When they reached the apartment building, Cas didn’t pull up in front, but instead drove around the side to the small visitor’s parking lot. Was he planning on staying? Or just walking them up?

Dean had never invited him inside before. If he weren’t so goddamn tired, he’d probably be freaking out right about now.

The elevator ride up to the eighth floor was a bit awkward. Once they entered the apartment, Sam immediately started fussing over Dean, leaving Cas to hover uncertainly in the doorway.

“So, uh, this is our place,” Dean announced, not meeting his eyes. “Make yourself comfortable or whatever. I really need to take a shower.”

Cas nodded and did as instructed, sitting on the worn-down couch and taking out his phone, but he still kept looking at Dean like he was worried he might disappear any second.

“Sam, can I talk to you for a second?” Dean said, all but dragging him into the bathroom.

“Dean, what on Earth--”

“Why did you call him?” Dean hissed, keeping his voice quiet despite his annoyance, hoping Cas wouldn’t hear him.

Sam just looked at him blankly. “Umn, because I thought your boyfriend might want to know that you got hurt at work? And that it might be nice for you to have him there when you finished at the station?”

Dean groaned. “We’re not-- we haven’t made it official yet, okay? I don’t even know what we’re doing, and now he probably feels obligated to be here, and--”

“Dean,” Sam said gently. “I mean this in the most supportive way possible: get your head out of your ass. He’s so far gone on you, it’s kind of ridiculous. You should have seen him when he got to the station. He was totally frantic, but once I explained what happened and told him you would be fine, he calmed down and just started asking me all sorts of questions. About myself, and about you.”

“Oh.” Dean couldn’t think of anything else to say. He’d thought Cas was quiet on the way over here because he was irritated at having to drive down to the police station at midnight, but if Sam was telling the truth…

Maybe Cas just wanted to be here. To be here for Dean.

“I think he’s a good guy, Dean,” Sam said, gripping his shoulder lightly. “And he definitely cares about you. A lot.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Dean said absently. “Go to bed, man. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sam gave him an encouraging smile and left Dean alone with his thoughts. He pulled off his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water on extra hot. He felt a lot better when he stepped out from under the spray, but he was still tired all the way down to his bones.

He figured there was no point in playing modest-- the first they met, he’d been pretty damn close to naked-- so he stepped back out of the bathroom wearing nothing but the towel wrapped around his hips.

“Hey,” he said to Cas, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was here. In Dean’s apartment. 

“Hello,” Cas said, his head snapping up immediately. “Is there anything I can get you?”

Dean fiddled with the edge of the towel. “I think I just want to try to get some sleep.”

“Oh.” Cas paused for a second, then started to stand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invite myself in, Dean. I was just worried about you, but you’re home now, so I can go.”

That wasn’t Dean meant at all. But he was starting to get the feeling he and Cas might have both been misinterpreting a few things up to this point. So it was about damn time he just asked for what he wanted.

“You can go if you want,” he said quietly. “But don’t go because you think it’s what I want.”

Castiel’s gaze snapped to his. He looked at Dean for a long moment, as though trying to puzzle out all the possible ways he could have meant those words. “Are you asking me to stay?”

“Yes,” Dean said simply.

Cas’ shoulders relaxed, all the tension leaving his body as he exhaled shakily. “Alright,” he said. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed? I’ll lock up and join you shortly.”

Dean changed into his favourite plaid pyjama pants with trembling hands, then pulled back the covers, but stayed perched on the edge of the bed, waiting for Cas to join him. A minute later, Cas pulled the bedroom door closed behind him and came to stand in front of Dean.

With a displeased twist to his mouth, he tilted Dean’s head towards the light so he could inspect the bruise forming on his cheek. “That looks painful,” he said softly. “Are you sure you don’t want some ice?”

Dean shook his head. “Not right now,” he said. 

Cas took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “What do you want, Dean?”

There was a whole host of possible answers to that question, but for now-- “Just come here.”

Dean tugged Cas down by the hand so that they were sitting beside one another on the bed. Cas went willingly, and Dean pressed himself against his side, surprised at how well they fit together.

“Thanks for coming to get us,” he said quietly.

Cas’ arm wrapped around his waist, his touch gentle. “Of course. Dean, I…”

“Can we talk in the morning?” Dean interrupted. He knew they needed to have this conversation, but he was just so tired. Besides, having Cas here, treating him so sweetly, was already part of the answer he was looking for. 

“Alright,” Cas said with a small laugh. “Only because I think you might fall asleep on me either way.”

He pulled away from Dean for a second to take off his shirt and jeans. Meanwhile, Dean rolled under the covers, leaving a space for Castiel beside him. 

Cas flicked off the lamp on the bedside table, then carefully laid back down on his side, face turned towards Dean. Even in the dim light spilling in through the window, Dean could see the concern in his eyes.

It made him look softer. More approachable. Dean really, really liked the look on him. Almost as much as he liked having Cas here in his bed.

Dean rolled over onto his side as well, his back turned to Cas. For a second, he thought he might not take the hint, but then he felt a large hand settle lightly on his bare hip. Dean reached down and pulled Cas closer until he was pressed all along his back, firm and warm. 

Cas wrapped his arm more tightly around Dean, and Dean hummed happily to himself. He felt Cas press a kiss to the back of his shoulder. “Goodnight, Dean,” he murmured.

“Night, Cas.”

***

Dean woke up alone.

A wave of distress hit him like nausea, and he almost just rolled over and went right back to sleep, but then he heard voices from the kitchen-- and one of them belonged to Cas. He reached out, and the other side of the bed was still slightly warm to the touch.

His energy returning, he got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen, where Sam and Cas looked up from the table wearing identical expressions of guilt.

“We didn’t mean to wake you,” Cas said apologetically. “But good morning, nevertheless.”

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, standing to get a cup of coffee for Dean. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “But thanks for the coffee, and the concern.”

“I would offer to make you something to eat, but I wouldn’t be able to follow through.” Cas smiled at him, looking completely at ease. 

Dean shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a bowl of cereal.”

“I think I can manage that.” Cas wouldn’t let Dean get up to get it for himself, and eventually he sighed and gave up. He wasn’t accustomed to being spoiled like this, but he had to admit, it was kind of nice once in awhile. Sam just watched with amusement, probably storing up years’ worth of blackmail material. Oh well.

Cas’ leg brushed against Dean’s as they ate, the small kitchen table not really meant for three grown men to crowd around. They chatted lightly, avoiding any mention of the previous night, until Sam stood and announced he was leaving for work.

“Didn’t Jody tell you not rush in?” Dean asked.

Sam laughed. “Dean, it’s already almost ten. She didn’t say take the entire morning off.”

Dean must have slept a lot later than he realized. Apparently he needed the rest. Or he just slept really well in Cas’ arms.

“Okay,” he said. “I guess I should get ready, too, then. I’m surprised Charlie hasn’t already called, but maybe she’s already distracted by something.”

“Nope.” Sam shook his head. “I called her already. You’re not going in today. Or tonight.”

Dean glanced over at Cas, wishing he wasn’t here to witness this conversation. “I gotta work, Sam,” he said quietly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said with a grin. “Bela called me too. She’ll still pay you for tonight. Compensation, or whatever. And you know Charlie will find a way to slide a little unexpected bonus onto your next cheque.”

Dean made a face at him, but he knew Sam was right. That was exactly what Charlie would do, bless her heart.

“Take the day off,” Sam advised. “For once in your life.”

Cas had been quiet up to this point, probably sensing that it wasn’t his place to weigh in, but he nodded at Sam’s last statement. “Just one day.”

Dean was clearly outnumbered. He should have known Sam and Cas would team up on him like this. “Fine.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, clearly not convinced. “Cas, don’t let him try to run off to Charlie’s the minute I leave, okay?”

Cas sent Sam a half-hearted salute. Outraged, Dean turned to pout at him. “Since when do you do what he tells you?”

“He’s very tall,” Cas said calmly. “And very sensible.”

“I’m tall too,” Dean muttered as Sam waved at them as he headed out the door, laughing.

The light-hearted mood left with him, and Dean drained the last of his coffee, suddenly nervous. It was time for The Talk, and he had no idea where to even start.

But Cas took the initiative. “Dean,” he said, “can I kiss you?”

Dean blinked at him for a second. He thought they were going to talk, but if Cas just wanted to make out instead...no, that was exactly the kind of thinking he needed to put a stop to.

“Uh, yeah, but I’ve probably got coffee breath,” he said.

Cas rolled his eyes. “I don’t care.” He leaned across the table and kissed Dean, so softly he barely felt it. “Good morning.”

Jesus. For someone who claimed not be a morning person, Cas was kind of magical at this time of day. “Good morning,” Dean replied, a bit dazed.

“Alright. Now we can have that talk,” Cas said with a small smile.

Dean sighed. “Can we at least go sit somewhere more comfortable?”

“Of course.”

So they settled themselves on the couch, not touching, but still close enough that Dean could see the faint shadows Cas’ eyelashes left on his cheeks. 

“I was so worried when Sam told me there had been an incident at the club,” Cas started. “He didn’t give me many details, and I started imagining all sorts of awful things...but worst of all was not knowing if you would even want me there.”

“What?” Dean asked. “Why wouldn’t I--”

Cas fidgeted slightly in his seat. “You told me, some time ago, that I hadn’t earned the right to worry about you. I didn’t know if that was still true.”

Dean should have known those words would come back to haunt him. “I don’t think it is,” he said, so quietly he wasn’t even sure if Cas heard him.

“But I couldn’t stop myself from worrying about you. So I came anyways. And last night, when you asked me to stay, I’d never felt happier.”

He was saying everything Dean wanted to hear, but for some reason, Cas wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“I know you’ve been holding back, Dean. Trying to take it slow,” he continued. “But I’d really like to be a part of your life, even if it’s only on Sundays.”

“I want that too, Cas,” Dean told him, and Cas finally looked at him. “And you’re right, I have been holding back. Maybe it’s a bit of a control thing, I don’t know. It’s not that I wanted to play games, I just…”

“Didn’t know what you were doing?” Cas finished with a wry smile. “Neither did I. I still don’t, really.”

“That’s okay, Cas. I know the whole relationship thing isn’t your usual style--”

“But I want to try,” Cas interrupted. “I’ll probably be terrible at it. I’ll mess up, Dean, I know I will. I’m irritable and I’m spoiled and I’m far too accustomed to only having myself to answer to.”

Dean had to laugh. “At least you’re self-aware.”

“It is one of my only redeeming qualities, yes,” Cas replied.

“That, and your cheekbones,” Dean quoted, and was pleased when Cas laughed, obviously recognizing the phrase.

“Thank you. But I fear they pale in comparison to yours.”

Dean felt himself flush even as he winced internally. There was no way to address this without it getting slightly awkward, but he had to try.

“Cas, listen. It’s nice, hearing you say that kind of stuff. But...I’ve been having a bit of a hard time, thinking that’s all you see in me, sometimes.”

Cas frowned. “You think that I--”

“I don’t want to just be a conquest,” Dean said in a rush. “Sometimes I worry that you’re just interested in getting me into bed, and that’ll be the end of it. The compliments are sweet, really, but when they’re all just focused on the way I look…”

“Damn it, Balthazar,” Cas said under his breath.

“Okay, wait, what does he have to do with this?” Dean asked, confused.

“I asked him for advice,” Cas admitted. “On how to woo you, as it were. He said to compliment you, and I see now how you could have taken the things I’ve said to mean that they were the only things I cared about.”

“So, they’re not?” He hated even having to ask, but it would be best to clear up any doubts now.

“Of course not,” Cas said firmly. “I’ve never met anyone I wanted to spend this much time with. Dean, if all I cared about was having sex with you, I would have given up a long time ago and moved on.”

“I’m starting to get that.”

“Do I think you’re one of the most stunningly attractive people I’ve ever met? Absolutely. Did I enjoy every minute of your painfully intimate private dance? Wholeheartedly. Would I like to someday have the chance to finally get my hands all over you? Definitely. But I’ve been content to allow you to set the pace, Dean, and I’ll continue to do so. Because I enjoy all the time we spend together, no matter how much clothing you’re wearing.”

Dean had never heard Cas sound so passionate. “That was quite the speech,” he said weakly.

“Yes, well, apparently that’s what happens when you go without talking about things for this long. We’re obviously going to have to work on our communication skills, if we want this to have a chance of success.” Cas reached out and took hold of Dean’s hand. “This conversation is good practice.”

Dean nodded and squeezed his hand. “It is. Anything else you need to get off your chest, while we’re at it?”

Cas considered this for a minute, his head tilted to the side in the way Dean found ridiculously endearing. “Actually, yes.” 

“Okay.” Dean braced himself, hoping it was nothing too serious.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, about my relationship with my family,” Cas said.

Not at all what Dean was expecting, but alright. “What about it?”

“Before I got the call from Sam yesterday, I had been on the phone with my mother. There’s a charity dinner next week in Kansas City. One of the few events I typically attend. I had been working up the courage to ask if you would consider coming with me. As my date.”

That was all the proof Dean would ever need that Cas cared about more than just his body. Not only had he remembered Dean’s comments about his family, but faced with the prospect of spending time with them, he wanted to have Dean there with him for support.

“I’d love to,” Dean said warmly.

“Really?” Cas blinked at him, clearly surprised. “It’s going to be one of those stuffy, formal things, Dean. You’ll probably hate it.”

“Do you want me to come or not?”

“Of course I want you to come, I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“That’s sweet,” Dean said. “And you’re right, I might hate it. But that’s okay. I want to go anyways. To be there for you.”

Cas looked more than a little overwhelmed. “Thank you.”

“Okay, well if that’s settled…”

“Yes.”

“Great,” Dean said, lifting his hand to cover a yawn. “Then how do you feel about mid-morning naps?”

A slow smile spread across Cas’ face. “I don’t know. I can’t remember the last time I took one. But I suspect I’ll like them very much.”

“Good, because if I don’t have to go anywhere today, I want to spend as much of it in bed as possible.”

Still holding Cas by the hand, he led him back to the bedroom and tugged him down onto the bed. Cas went easily, willing, as he said, to let Dean set the pace. 

Dean curled up close, resting his head on Cas’ chest. Even though he’d only been awake for a few hours, he could feel himself drifting off already. 

“I think I like mid-morning naps,” Cas whispered. “Or maybe I just like you.”

Dean chuckled sleepily. “That’s good, Cas. Cause I kinda like you too.”

He felt Cas press a light kiss to the top of his head, and soon after, his eyes slowly closed as he fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, they talked to each other!!! Amazing.


	7. Chapter 7

It was strange to feel anything other than dread at the thought of attending one of his family’s charity dinners. But knowing that Dean would be accompanying him, Castiel was rather looking forward to it. He was also a bit nervous, which took him by surprise. 

He usually didn’t care enough to be nervous about anything. 

Dean laughed at him for pretty much the whole week. “Jesus, Cas, they’re your family. How bad can they be?” he asked on the phone one night, calling on his break from his shift at the club. “I think we’ll have fun.”

Right. Fun. Not a word Castiel generally associated with these stuffy events. But if nothing else, he would get a nice night with Dean. And on a Saturday, no less. He’d been hesitant to even broach the topic of attending with Dean because he knew how tight his schedule was, but the universe gave them a break for once. Since Dean had done a favour for one of his co-workers the week before, he was owed a night off, and he insisted that he was happy to use it so he could accompany Castiel to Kansas City.

And he couldn’t deny that he was very much looking forward to seeing Dean in formal wear. Another topic he’d been hesitant to broach. Dean wore everything (and next to nothing) well, but Castiel had doubted he would have the appropriate outfit for the dinner. Dean surprised him again, telling him not to worry about it. 

So he didn’t worry, but he did wonder.

By five-thirty on Saturday afternoon, Castiel was fully dressed and ready to go. They would be making use of his car service for the night so they could both take advantage of the open bar. Dean deemed this acceptable, though he would have preferred to take one of their own cars. 

He texted Dean to tell him they were on their way, and with one final check of his appearance in the mirror, he was out the door.

There was someone leaving the building just as Castiel got out of the car, so he was able to slip inside and go up to Dean’s apartment to get him rather than waiting outside. He also figured that whatever hang-ups Dean might have had about Castiel seeing his apartment no longer mattered after he spent the night there the previous weekend. He smiled at the memory, and raised his hand to knock.

The door opened, but it wasn’t Dean on the other side. “Hey, Cas,” Sam said with an easy smile. “Come on in.”

“Hello, Sam. Is Dean running late?”

“I heard that!” Dean shouted from the bathroom. “I’ll be right out, I promise.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’s worse than he was before prom,” he stage-whispered. “Total diva.”

“Heard that too,” Dean grumbled as he emerged, tugging his tie into place.

Castiel’s mouth went dry at the sight of him. Dean’s classic black suit fit him perfectly, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips, the slim cut of his pants making his legs look impossibly long without hiding their slight outward curve. His white shirt was pristine, and to top it all off-- a narrow, bright red tie. 

“Told you not to worry,” Dean said with a smirk. 

“I’ll never doubt you again,” Castiel replied absently, his eyes still roaming over Dean’s body, admiring every inch of him. 

Sam coughed awkwardly. “Uh, you guys have fun,” he said. “I won’t wait up.”

“Good plan,” Dean said, winking at his brother. “Be good, Sammy.”

“Have a good night, Sam,” Castiel called out as they left the apartment. 

The elevator ride was quiet, but Castiel could feel Dean’s eyes on him, and he stood straighter under his appreciative gaze. Just as they were about to step through the building’s front doors, Dean grabbed his hand and hauled him in for a quick and dirty kiss that left Castiel’s head spinning. 

“You look really good too,” he whispered.

Castiel laughed. “Then at least if all else goes terribly wrong, we’ll both have something nice to look at tonight.”

“Exactly.”

They slid into the car, sitting closer than was strictly necessary, but Castiel enjoyed feeling Dean’s warmth against him. They hadn’t been able to spend much time together since they clarified the state of their relationship the week before, and it was nice to have this hour-long drive to themselves.

“So when people ask me what I do, I guess I should probably just mention my day job, huh,” Dean commented after a few minutes, looking thoughtfully out the window. 

“Say whatever you want.” Castiel shrugged. “Tell them you’re a mechanic. Or a teacher. Or an executive assistant for a small tech company. Or a stripper. Tell them whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Dean looked at him quizzically. “You’re not worried what they’ll say? Not just about me, but about you.”

Castiel chuckled. “Dean, I don’t give a flying fuck what these people think of me. Honestly, if you told them you were a stripper, they would probably fall all over themselves trying to prove how open-minded they are. It might be a good laugh.”

“Lots of earnest questions about the state of the industry?” Dean smiled.

“Precisely.” Castiel reached over and took his hand. “But in all seriousness, don’t feel that you have to pretend to be anything other than yourself tonight. I wanted _you_ here, not you in a mask of polite blandness.”

“I keep picturing that scene in Titanic, where Jack goes to dinner with the first-class folks,” Dean confessed. “Wondering about all the awkward small-talk.”

“Does this make me Rose?” Castiel teased. “Are you going to draw me like one of your French girls?”

Honestly, he wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“I can’t draw for shit,” Dean replied, laughing, “but we could always re-enact the car scene. That hand dragging through the fogged-up window? Hot.”

“You know the movie rather well,” Castiel commented.

“It’s a good movie,” Dean protested. “And it sounds like you’re pretty familiar with it yourself.”

“It’s Balthazar’s favourite,” Castiel said. “He insists that he hates it, but it’s really because he cries through most of the second half.”

“Nice.” Dean nodded approvingly. “Will he be there tonight?”

That was a good question, actually. “I don’t know. He’s been invited, of course. But he usually has his own parties on Saturdays, so if anything he may make a brief appearance, fulfill a few social obligations, and then flee.”

“Do we have a similar escape plan if we need one?” Dean asked, his tone turning serious. “In case you want to get of there.”

“I generally just leave,” Castiel said. “My family has come to expect it, and everyone else...like I said, I don’t care what they think. If you want to go, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“Not until after food, at least. I’m expecting fine dining here.”

“Oh, you won’t be disappointed,” Castiel assured him. “If the food was anything less than fantastic, I would have stopped attending years ago.”

“Good to know we’re on the same page.” Dean leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Castiel considered turning it into something more, but they were getting close to the venue, and he didn’t want to leave them frustrated.

So they just chatted the rest of the way, though their hands remained clasped on the seat between them.

Soon enough, they pulled up in front of the hotel where the dinner was being held. “Ready?” Castiel murmured as they exited the car. “Last chance to back out.”

“Never,” Dean replied. “Let’s do this.”

Heads held high, they strode through the lobby, ignoring the whispers that followed them. The attendant at the door obviously recognized Castiel, ushering them through with a polite nod, which Castiel returned. 

The room was about half-full when they entered. Dean let out a low whistle as he took in the extravagant decorations and the well-dressed crowd. “Fancy,” he said in a low voice.

Castiel rested a reassuring hand on his lower back. “You look right at home,” he whispered in Dean’s ear. “You look better than all of them. And you’re much more interesting. How many of them would talk to me about Titanic?”

Dean snorted in amusement. “You might be surprised.”

One of the catering crew came around with a tray of drinks, and Castiel grabbed two flutes of champagne, passing one to Dean. “Cheers,” he said.

“Cheers.”

Drinks in hand, they made their way toward their assigned table. A few people nodded at Castiel as they passed, but no one approached them.

“How come nobody’s talking to you?” Dean asked.

“I have a reputation as the unapproachable one,” Castiel admitted, guiding Dean to his seat. “I think people have realized that I don’t often care to be here, especially after I stopped pretending otherwise.”

Dean frowned. “Okay, but eventually somebody’s going to talk to us, right? They can’t all be scared of you.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t think I’m scary enough?”

With a sigh, Dean swatted at his chest, but Castiel caught his hand, lifting it to his lips for a quick kiss. 

“How sweet,” someone said from behind them. 

They both turned, and Castiel wasn’t surprised to see his brother Michael standing there, a vaguely puzzled look on his handsome face. 

“Hello, Michael,” he said politely. “May I introduce you to Dean Winchester?”

“Hi,” Dean said, standing to shake Michael’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Indeed,” Michael said, studying Dean closely. Maybe a little too closely. “Well, be sure to say hello to Mother and Father before you disappear, Castiel.”

He nodded briefly at both of them, then walked over to the next table and greeted the woman sitting there, his manner far more warm than it had been towards them.

Dean let out a low whistle. “Wow,” he said. “He didn’t even pretend to be interested in me, or our relationship. I thought you guys were all about social conventions.”

Castiel winced. “He may have history on his side, in this case,” he admitted. “Most of my dates for these events are one-time only companions. Michael’s long given up trying to feign any interest in them, or in me.”

“Fair enough,” Dean conceded. “Too bad, though. I was kinda looking forward to telling someone I’m an astronaut.”

“You can tell my mother that,” Castiel offered. “Out of anyone, she’s the most likely to ask the semi-invasive questions.”

“Awesome.”

Castiel glanced at the table, noting the other names at the places. Balthazar, if he showed, Anna, and Gabriel, plus their dates. He said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had done the seating arrangements that he wasn’t at a table with Michael and Hael, or his parents, at least. 

“Castiel!” Anna dropped into her seat, her eyes wide. “You’re here early, for you.”

“Hello, Anna,” he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” she said, then leaned around him to speak to Dean. “Hello! Anna Novak. And you are?”

“Dean Winchester,” Dean said, offering his hand again. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Anna replied, eyeing Dean with frank admiration. “I’m rather upset that Castiel snatched you up for the night, I must say.”

“For more than the night,” Castiel said, somewhat stiffly. “Dean and I are dating, Anna.”

Anna clinked her glass against his. “Congratulations!” she said. “So tell me, Dean: how did you and Castiel meet?”

Dean looked at Castiel briefly, and Castiel nodded. He really didn’t care what Dean told Anna. 

“One of Balthazar’s parties,” Dean said smoothly. 

Anna smiled at him. “Oh, I’ve been to a few of those,” she laughed. “And how long ago was this?”

“End of May?” Dean said, looking to Castiel to confirm.

“That sounds about right.”

“Oh, dear. And he’s already subjecting you to the family circus, is he?” Anna grimaced. 

“What circus? We’re a charming group of people,” Gabriel said as he joined them at the table. “Dean! A pleasure to see you again.”

A slight frown crossed Dean’s features, but he covered it with a smile and shook Gabriel’s hand. “You too.”

“Oh, have you already met Dean?” Anna asked with interest.

“Briefly,” Castiel replied quickly, before Gabriel could get a word in. “Only in passing, when Gabriel came to visit awhile back.”

He looked pleadingly at his brother, and a look of understanding dawned on Gabriel’s face. He nodded once, and Castiel sat back with a small sigh. Gabriel was mischievous, but he could be discreet if required.

“I’m looking forward to getting to know him better,” Gabriel said, grinning. “Especially now that things are looking a little more serious between the two of you.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, knowing Gabriel was cranky that Castiel hadn’t kept him informed about his relationship with Dean. 

“You didn’t bring anyone with you?” he asked pointedly, looking at the empty place beside Gabriel.

Gabriel shrugged. “Neither did Anna. No big deal.”

Anna smiled tightly. “It’s more fun to dance with multiple partners.”

“You’d better save one for me, then,” Dean said to her with a smile. 

She looked surprised at his offer, but gave him a pleased smile “Of course.”

Castiel reached under the table and lightly squeezed Dean’s leg in both support and gratitude. He was already doing so well. 

Gabriel launched into some story about all the famous people he ran into in L.A, taking the attention away from Dean and Castiel for a few minutes. The room was steadily filling around them, and it didn’t look like Balthazar was going to make an appearance, which was unfortunate. Castiel would have liked to have him there as another buffer, someone who could smooth things over if anyone got too nosy. 

There was one other conspicuous absence, though. “Where’s Hael?” he asked during a lull in the conversation. “I haven’t seen her come in.”

Anna and Gabriel exchanged glances that Castiel couldn’t decipher. “She told Mother she wouldn’t be attending, refused to give a reason, and hasn’t been answering any of our calls since,” Anna said, frowning. 

Castiel winced. As much as he hated these events at times, even he suffered through them. But Hael was the baby, and she was always indulged. 

“Have you met Mother and Father yet?” Gabriel asked Dean, dropping the discussion of Hael’s absence. 

“Not yet,” Dean replied, fiddling with his empty glass. “I’m sure they have more important people to talk to than me.”

Castiel signaled to a passing server, who quickly brought them all refills. Dean smiled at him gratefully, taking a large sip of his champagne. 

“They’re not so bad, really,” Anna commented. “And you’re right, they won’t have much time to bother you. Too many people here they have to greet.”

Her words proved to be true. Castiel caught sight of his parents a few times throughout their meal, and pointed them out to Dean, but they didn’t have a chance to talk until much later, after dinner was finished.

“They’re going to make a speech, then they’ll probably come over to say hello,” Castiel explained as his parents walked towards the centre of the room, hand in hand. 

Gabriel slid back into his seat, holding an entire tray filled with shots. “You boys in?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows in their direction.

“In for what?” Dean asked warily.

“A drinking game,” Castiel said. “Take a shot every time Mother or Father talk about community, the future, legacy, or use the phrase ‘a brighter tomorrow.’ Oh, or mention the company name.”

Dean chuckled. “Wow. I’m guessing they don’t deviate far from their scripts at these things.”

“Not at all,” Anna said. “We’ve had lots of time to figure out which rules will get us pleasantly drunk--”

“And which would leave us unconscious on the ground,” Gabriel finished. 

Dean looked at Castiel, unsure, but he just spread his hands. “The choice is yours.”

“I don’t want to be too drunk when I do meet them,” Dean said, “so I’ll play a modified version. Community and a brighter tomorrow, how about that?”

Gabriel nodded approvingly. “You too, Castiel?”

“I like Dean’s version. I’ll keep him company.”

“Here we go,” Anna murmured as their mother tapped her microphone.

“Good evening, everyone!” she said, beaming at the room. It wasn’t a natural expression for her, Castiel knew, but she’d had a lot of practice over the years. “Thank you all for joining us tonight.”

“It’s a pleasure to see so many familiar faces, and many new ones as well,” Castiel’s father continued. “To see our community continuing to grow.”

Dean snorted and lifted his shot to his lips, the others following suit. “Cheers,” he said, and they all tipped them back.

By the time the speech ended, Castiel and Dean had taken four shots each. There was a lovely tinge of pink in Dean’s cheeks, and Castiel was sure his own matched. Anna and Gabriel were of course far worse off, but Castiel wasn’t worried about them. They’d played this game enough to know their limits.

As predicted, his parents made their way directly to their table after finishing their speech. Dean sat up straighter as they approached, and Castiel watched him carefully for signs of discomfort.

“Hello, Castiel,” his mother said, taking the empty seat beside Gabriel while his father stood behind her. “Thank you for joining us. And who have you brought with you tonight?”

“This is Dean Winchester. Dean, my mother Naomi, and my father, Chuck.”

Dean smiled at them with all his considerable charm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Novak.”

“Winchester,” Naomi repeated. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“It’s not an uncommon name,” Castiel replied.

“I doubt you know any of my family,” Dean said with a laugh. “This isn’t exactly my usual Saturday night.”

“What is it that you do, Dean?” Chuck asked.

“I work for a friend’s small tech company,” Dean answered easily. “Though I’d like to go back to school and become a teacher.”

Naomi nodded politely. “An admirable goal,” she commented. “And you’ve been seeing Castiel for how long now? He hasn’t mentioned you to us at all.”

Castiel winced. He hoped Dean wouldn’t be offended by that, but Dean didn’t look thrown off. “We’ve only been together a few months,” he said. “I guess he wanted to surprise you.”

“He certainly did,” Chuck said. “I hope we’ll have more time to talk later, Dean, but we have a lot of people to say hello to.”

“Of course,” Dean said. 

“Enjoy your evening, dears,” Naomi said, looking at Castiel and his siblings. 

“We always do,” Anna said with a sweet smile. 

After his parents moved on to their other guests, Castiel turned to Dean. “I hope that wasn’t too difficult for you,” he murmured.

Dean smiled, adjusting Castiel’s tie affectionately. “No big deal,” he said. “Your mom’s a bit scary, but you were right, they barely cared about me. Probably because I’m not an investor.”

“Exactly,” Castiel said. “You’ve got them figured out already.”

“Told you before, I’m good at reading people,” Dean said.

As they were speaking, the music started up again, and a few couples made their way onto the dance floor. 

“How about that dance?” Dean asked Anna, rising to his feet and offering her his arm. 

“Dean’s a great dancer,” Gabriel said cheerfully. “Though he’s wearing way more clothes than normal this time.”

Dean went pale, and Castiel nearly crushed his champagne flute between his fingers. “Gabriel,” he hissed. 

Anna looked at Dean, confused, but then Gabriel’s words sunk in. Dean’s jaw was tightly set, and he looked like he was bracing to be yelled at. But Anna actually softened, smiling up at him. “That’s good,” she said. “I’m used to most of the men here stepping on my toes and ruining my nice shoes.”

Dean relaxed, realizing that she wasn’t about to make a scene. “I promise not to do that,” he said. He looked over his shoulder as he led Anna onto the dancefloor, and mouthed the words _I’m fine_ at Castiel.

Castiel was relieved that Dean wasn’t too upset about Gabriel’s slip-up, but he certainly was. 

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said before Castiel could start admonishing him. “Really, Cas. I’m sorry. I forgot that Anna didn’t know, and it didn’t seem like a big deal…”

“You’re lucky that it wasn’t,” Castiel told him, his voice dark. “You’re lucky that Anna reacted gracefully, and that Dean wasn’t too hurt by your thoughtlessness. Because if he had been, Gabriel, it would not have ended well for you.”

Gabriel stared at him, his eyes wide. “Shit, Cas,” he said. “You really care about this guy, don’t you.”

Castiel blinked at him. Gabriel was supposed to be apologizing, not commenting on his feelings. “What are you talking about?” he growled.

“I’ve never seen you get so protective. Over anyone.” Gabriel looked at him thoughtfully. “And not in a possessive way, but in a genuine way. Like you just don’t want him to be upset.”

“Of course I don’t want him to be upset,” Castiel snapped. “Especially not because of my idiot brother’s big mouth.”

“Harsh,” Gabriel said. “But not undeserved. I am sorry, Castiel. It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” Castiel said, still feeling unsettled. Of course he cared about Dean, but the way Gabriel described it...he was right, Castiel had never felt so invested in someone else’s happiness before. In wanting them to have a good time, in wanting to see them smile. 

He looked out at the dance floor, where the song was coming to an end. Dean twirled Anna in his arms, her red hair flying behind her, both of them grinning. They made a lovely pair. He wondered what people thought when they saw him with Dean, whether the picture made sense or not. 

Dean escorted Anna back to the table, the two of them still in high spirits. “Oh, that was fun,” Anna sighed, dropping back into her seat and reaching for her glass-- water, at least, Castiel noted. “Dean, thank you for the dance. You should give lessons.”

“Not a bad idea,” Dean said, his eyes twinkling. “What do you say, Cas? Wanna let me show you a thing or two out there?”

He was impossible to resist like this, his cheeks flushed, that damn red tie slightly askew. “Of course,” Castiel agreed, letting Dean pull him up from his seat.

As soon as they reached the open area, the song changed to something much slower. Dean’s lips quirked upwards in a slight smile. “Slow dancing it is,” he said, stepping right into Castiel’s space and wrapping his arms around him. “So much better than prom, though.”

“I didn’t go to prom,” Castiel said. “I had tutors at home, remember?”

“Maybe that’s why you can’t dance,” Dean teased.

Castiel frowned at him. “I haven’t stepped on you yet, have I?”

“Nope. You’re doing great.” Dean pulled him in even closer, and Castiel tucked his head into the crook of Dean’s shoulder, relishing his proximity. The rest of the room seemed to fade away. All he cared about was the heat of Dean’s body against his, his hands so strong against his back, and the slow rhythm of the music as they danced.

“Cas?” Dean whispered as the song came to a close.

Castiel lifted his head to look at him. “Yes?”

“Can we go?”

“Of course,” Castiel said hurriedly. “The car will be outside in five minutes. Let’s just say a quick goodbye to Anna and Gabriel, and we’ll be on our way.”

Dean nodded, and they walked hand-in-hand back to their table while Castiel called his driver to pick them up. 

“I think we’re going to head out,” Dean said to Anna and Gabriel. “Thanks for a fun night, though.”

“I don’t get another dance?” Anna pretended to pout.

“Next time,” Dean assured her. “You too, Gabe.” He winked at Gabriel, obviously bearing him no ill-will for his mistake earlier.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Gabriel told him. “You kids get home safe, now.”

Castiel gave his brother and sister quick hugs, then looked over at Dean. “Shall we?”

“Yes, please,” Dean replied.

Castiel waited until they were settled in the car to ask Dean the reason for their abrupt departure. “Is everything alright?” he said softly. “We left in a bit of a hurry.”

Dean didn’t look distressed. In fact, he was smiling. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “I just didn’t really want to be there with everyone else anymore. I just wanted to be with you.”

Castiel’s breath caught in his throat. He’d been more secure in his and Dean’s relationship since their heart-to-heart the week before, but he still wasn’t accustomed to such bold declarations of sentiment. 

“That’s good,” he said, swallowing nervously. “I was afraid you were upset by what Gabriel said.”

Dean shrugged loosely. “I was at first, but mostly because I was afraid Anna might make a scene. But she was cool about it.”

“Did you enjoy your dance?” Castiel asked, hating himself for even mentioning it.

Dean looked at him side-long. “Are you _jealous_?” he asked, chuckling.

“No,” Castiel protested. “Just...curious.”

Dean shook his head, obviously still amused. “I like Anna,” he said. “She’s smart, and she’s nice. I know it’s not really my place to comment, but I don’t think you give her enough credit. She was really interested in how you were doing, you know.”

“Really?” That was a surprise. He had gotten the impression that Anna just wanted to dance with Dean because she was lonely, or just to spite Castiel. 

“Yes, really. You should try actually talking to her once in awhile,” Dean suggested. 

Maybe Dean was right, but he couldn’t picture himself just picking up the phone and calling Anna out of the blue. They simply didn’t have that kind of relationship.

“Maybe,” was all he said.

“You’re so stubborn,” Dean muttered, but his eye-roll was more fond than annoyed.

“So, overall, how would you rate the evening?” Castiel asked. He was slightly fearful of Dean’s reply, especially considering their quick departure. 

“Maybe an eight?” Dean replied. “Good food, good booze. You looked gorgeous. Still do, actually, even though your tie’s crooked.”

Castiel glanced down, but before he could adjust it, Dean stopped him, pulling his hand away. “Leave it. It suits you.”

“Eight is pretty good,” he said. “Could have been a lot worse.”

“Yep,” Dean agreed. “Room for improvement, though.”

“Oh? How so?”

Dean pouted at him. “You haven’t kissed me in hours.”

“A grievous oversight on my part,” Castiel said with a slow nod. He tilted Dean’s face towards him and pressed their lips together, Dean’s mouth opening easily for him, deepening the kiss. Castiel slid over on the seat so their thighs were touching, craving more contact. Always more.

They kept kissing for the rest of the drive, and as much as Castiel wanted to drag Dean right onto his lap so he could feel every inch of him, he restrained himself. But when they pulled up outside Dean’s building and he reluctantly ended their kiss, Dean just looked at him, his expression unreadable, instead of moving to get out of the car.

“I don’t have to work tomorrow,” Dean said slowly.

“Alright,” Castiel replied, not understanding. “Do you want to do something?”

Dean looked at him a minute longer, then broke into quiet laughter. “Jesus, Cas. I thought that was pretty obvious, but I guess you need me to spell it out for you. I don’t want the night to be over just yet.”

Was he saying---”Oh,” Castiel breathed. “Dean, would you like to come home with me?”

Dean’s smile was like a secret, small and precious. “Yeah, Cas, I would.”

With a whispered word to the driver, they were en route to Castiel’s house, and then they were kissing again, even more passionately than before. Dean’s hands were everywhere, sliding under Castiel’s jacket, pulling his shirt out of his pants so they could roam over his back, skin on skin. Castiel’s head fell back against the seat as he groaned. He’d had plenty of fun in the backseat over the years, but nothing compared to this. 

The car rolled to a halt, and Castiel tugged Dean out, not wanting to break contact. He barely managed to get the door open, too distracted by the way Dean was leaving hot, wet kisses down the side of his neck. “Dean,” he protested weakly. “Just...give me a minute.”

Dean obligingly pulled away, but as soon as the door opened and they were inside, he pinned Castiel to the wall, finally giving him the full-body contact he craved. It felt incredible being pressed together like that, even through several layers of clothing. 

Their kisses slowed somewhat, turning deeper, more luxurious. Castiel surrendered to it happily. He was have been content to stay there forever, but after a few more minutes, Dean drew back. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asked.

Castiel didn’t reply. He just took Dean by the hand and led him upstairs to his room. It was dark when they entered, but he turned on the lamp, giving the room a warm glow.

He turned to Dean, who was already pulling off his jacket and loosening the knot on his tie. “Better catch up quick, Cas,” he warned. “Or I’ll have to start without you.”

“Oh, no,” Castiel said, copying his movements. “Not this time.”

Dean laughed, shrugging out of his shirt. Castiel had seen him like this before, but it felt different now. This time, he would be permitted to _touch_.

Dean pulled his pants off, revealing red boxer-briefs that matched his discarded tie perfectly. “You’re going to give me a complex,” Castiel muttered, entranced. 

“But a good one,” Dean said with a smirk, coming to stand beside him, helping him push his pants down off his hips. His hand lingered there, tracing over the line of bone, then holding it firmly while he kissed Castiel again. Dean slowly backed them up until their knees hit the bed, then they fell onto it together, surprisingly graceful.

Dean was perched above him, his eyes roving over Castiel’s body and his hands following a split-second behind. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Dean murmured, running his hands over Castiel’s bare chest. 

Castiel arched into his touch, which had the pleasant side-effect of bringing their groins into contact, and he moaned at the feeling of Dean’s erection against his even through their underwear. Dean made a shaky noise of his own and pressed his hips forward, keeping their lower bodies close while he continued exploring Castiel’s chest with his hands and then his mouth.

Castiel reached between them and lightly stroked his hand over Dean’s erection, loving the weight of him in his hand. Dean moaned, hips stuttering slightly. 

“Tell me what you want, Cas,” he whispered, his mouth working across Castiel’s collarbone. “Tell me.”

Castiel wanted _everything_. He wanted them to stay like this, to rut against each other until they were both sticky and spent. He wanted Dean to take him in his mouth, smiling up at him from between his legs. He wanted to flip them over and sink down on Dean’s cock and ride him into exhaustion. He wanted to bury himself in Dean’s perfect ass and fuck him until he screamed. 

How was he supposed to choose? Really, he just wanted to feel closer to Dean. To blur the line between where one of them ended and the other began. 

“Fuck me,” he moaned. “God, Dean, I don’t care, I just need you.”

Dean shuddered, obviously just as overwhelmed as Castiel. “I can do that,” he said shakily. “Yeah, that sounds real good.”

Castiel pulled away for a second to retrieve the lube and condoms from his bedside table, passing them to Dean. Dean smiled at him, then leaned forward to kiss him again as he slowly worked Castiel’s underwear over his hips, leaving him completely naked. 

Castiel spread his legs wider so Dean could settle between them, then twined his arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. He heard the click of the cap on the bottle of lube, and then felt one of Dean’s fingers gently stroking over his entrance. He sighed and relaxed into the touch, allowing Dean’s finger to press inside him. 

“You want more?” Dean asked, pulling back to look at him.

“Please,” Castiel answered, shifting slightly, trying to fulfill the ache inside of him. 

“Okay, sweetheart, I’ll give you more,” Dean promised, sliding in a second finger. 

The extra pressure combined with the endearment that slipped so easily from Dean’s lips had Castiel sighing in pleasure. He rocked into Dean’s touch, eyes fluttering closed. Dean wasn’t even inside him yet and he was already coming undone. 

Dean slowly added a third finger, his eyes fixed on where they disappeared inside Castiel’s body. It was so good, but it wasn’t enough. 

Castiel carefully pushed Dean away, then rolled onto his hands and knees, looking back over his shoulder at him. 

“You’re sure?” Dean checked, running a callused hand over Castiel’s back.

“Yes,” Castiel said firmly. 

“You’re amazing, you know that,” Dean murmured, pressing a kiss to the small of his back. “So good for me, Cas.”

Castiel heard the condom packet tear open, then there was more pressure at his rim as Dean slowly worked himself inside until his hips were flush with his ass. Castiel let out a low noise at the sensation of being filled so completely, and Dean echoed it.

“You feel incredible,” he said, slowly withdrawing and then pushing forward again. Castiel pushed his hips back to meet his thrusts, and they soon set a rhythm that left them both gasping.

Castiel usually liked this position because it allowed his partners to fuck him hard without it feeling too intimate, since they couldn’t see each other’s faces. And while Dean certainly wasn’t disappointing him, moving with all the strength and grace he displayed while dancing, the way he touched Castiel was like nothing he had felt before. Dean’s hands were still moving all over his body, stroking and caressing him, keeping him grounded and making it anything but impersonal.

Dean’s hand wrapped around his cock, and Castiel dropped his head, shuddering. “Yes, Dean,” he moaned. The feeling of his hand working his cock in time with his thrusts was incredible. Castiel didn’t know how much longer he could last.

“I’m close,” he gasped. “Dean--”

Dean was moving faster now, stroking Castiel’s cock as he pounded into him. “Gonna come for me, Cas?” he whispered, leaning forward so that his chest was pressed all along Castiel’s back. “I want you to. Come on, Cas.”

He pressed his mouth to the juncture of Castiel’s neck and shoulder, sucking a dark mark, and Castiel unravelled completely, coming with a hoarse cry. He shook with the force of his orgasm as Dean continued to move inside him, chasing his own pleasure.

“Wanna look at you,” Dean murmured. “Wanna see your face when I come, Cas. Is that okay?”

Castiel nodded furiously, and Dean slipped out of him for a moment, turning him gently onto his back. It was actually easier this way, since Castiel was too boneless after his orgasm to really hold himself up. 

Dean pressed back inside him, and yes, this was good too, Castiel’s legs spread wide open around Dean, Dean’s mouth on his and their chests pressed closely together. Castiel slid his hands to the small of Dean’s back, feeling his muscles flex under his touch as Dean drove himself forward again and again.

He’d had a lot of sex, in a lot of different ways, but nothing had ever felt as good as this. Nothing. 

“Let go, Dean,” he murmured. “Let go for me.”

With a noise that was almost a sob, Dean did, spilling into the condom as he slumped forward, breathless. 

Castiel stroked his back soothingly until Dean regained enough control of himself to pull out and off of Castiel, though he kissed him sweetly while he did. Castiel watched as Dean made his way to the attached bathroom on shaky legs, coming back with a wet cloth to clean them both up with. 

“Will you stay?” Castiel asked, propping himself up on one elbow. He really hoped the answer would be yes. Dean didn’t have to work the next day, and they could spend it however they wanted. 

“I’d like that,” Dean said, smiling down at him.

“Good.” Castiel settled onto his back and opened his arms, drawing Dean in against him. Dean laid his head on Castiel’s chest, where his heart was still beating rapidly from their exertions. 

“It was good, wasn’t it,” Dean said sleepily. 

Castiel chuckled and reached over to turn off the lamp. “Of course it was,” he sad, dropping a kiss to Dean’s forehead. “Go to sleep, and we can do it again in the morning.”

“Awesome,” Dean murmured. His breathing evened out mere minutes later, but Castiel lay there smiling for some time before he too fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many of you seemed to anticipate a much more dramatic family dinner, so I hope this wasn't too boring for you! Or that the smut made up for it, at least.


	8. Chapter 8

The next two weeks were pretty much perfect.

As sappy as it sounded, it was nice finally feeling like he and Cas had made progress on both the physical and the emotional sides of their relationship. Sometimes Dean texted him funny pictures of Charlie and the gang glued to their computer screens, and other times he sent him pictures of himself getting ready for a performance. Sometimes Cas sent him filthy-sweet compliments that made Dean blush, and sometimes he sent him long rants about the latest book he was reading. 

Sam and Charlie enjoyed teasing him about it, and he knew Cas was getting the same treatment from Gabriel and Balthazar, which made him feel a bit better. Their friends were happy for them, so they could withstand a bit of mockery. Besides, Dean knew he would be a million times worse if Sam got serious about somebody.

The only problem was the same one they’d been having since the beginning: finding time to spend together. Cas’ schedule was wide open, and Dean’s was definitely not. He had Saturday until around five, and all day Sunday, but even if he spent every one of those hours with Cas, it never felt like quite enough. They met up for lunch a few times during the week when Dean could predict where he’d be, but even then it was rushed. 

They got a bit of a lucky break when Dean was scheduled to perform at Balthazar’s party. Cas hadn’t been attending since he and Dean started seeing each other, but it made sense for him to be there to keep Dean company on his breaks. 

“Won’t it be weird for him to watch you performing now that you guys are together?” Sam asked, lounging on the couch as Dean got ready to leave. “I mean, knowing that everyone else is watching you too.”

“I don’t think he’s a jealous guy,” Dean replied. “And it’s not like it’s a secret, what I do. That’s how we met, after all.”

Sam shrugged. “I know. I’m just saying, it’s weird.”

“Your hair is weird.” Not the most original comeback, but it was a classic for a reason.

“Have fun, Dean,” Sam said, not rising to the bait. “Say hi to Cas for me.”

Dean paused with his hand on the door. “You wanna come with? I’m sure Balthazar wouldn’t mind.” Sam worked so hard, he could use a night of fun.

“I don’t think it’s my scene,” Sam replied. “Besides, I _definitely_ don’t want to see you perform.”

“It’s a big house,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “You could stay far away from me.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.” 

“Alright. See you tomorrow then.”

Sam waved lazily to him, and he heard the TV turn on as he left the apartment. He made the quick drive over to Cas’ house, having decided there was no point in the two of them taking separate cars when they could maximize their time together this way.

“Hey,” he said as Cas slid into the passenger seat, leaning over for a quick kiss. “How was your day?”

“Boring, mostly. I played some online chess and won most of my games, so that was satisfying.”

“What an exciting life you lead,” Dean chuckled. “Online chess as the highlight of your day.”

“No,” Cas replied, shaking his head, “this is the highlight of my day.”

Dean really, really wanted to pull over and kiss him breathless, but then he wouldn’t want to stop kissing him, and then they would be late.

“You’re a smooth talker,” he said instead. “But thanks.”

“Of course, there are more good things to come,” Cas said thoughtfully. “So maybe I should reserve judgment until the end of the night.”

Dean chewed at his lip for a minute before answering. “You don’t think this is kind of weird?”

“What? Us going to this party together?”

“Sort of. More...you being at the party, watching me take my clothes off while other people throw money at me.”

Cas turned to face him, his expression serious. “I don’t have to come,” he said. “Or I can stay downstairs until you find me on your breaks, if it makes you feel strange to think of me being there.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Dean said hurriedly. “Sam just said he thought it was weird, and then I thought maybe you would think that too, or be...I don’t know, jealous or something?”

“I suppose I can see why Sam might think that,” Cas said, “but honestly, I’m not a jealous person. I know you enjoy what you do, Dean. If you’re having fun, why shouldn’t other people appreciate it?”

Dean smiled at him, relieved. “That’s what I told him.”

“And if I’m being completely honest,” Cas continued, giving him a sly look, “I rather like the idea of watching you dance up there, all those other people looking at you, but knowing I’m the one you’re coming to see on your breaks. The one you’re kissing at the end of the night.”

Dean coughed and shifted slightly in his seat. “You’re a goddamn menace when you talk like that,” he complained. “Showing up to work with a hard-on isn’t considered professional, even for a stripper.”

“Sorry,” Cas said, but he didn’t sound like he meant it all. “You know I’d help you handle any problem of that sort, especially if I caused it. It’s only fair.”

“Later,” Dean promised, and was rewarded with a pleased smile.

They parked at the side of the house and Cas led the way inside, obviously familiar with the maze of hallways and rooms. They found Balthazar chatting with Lisa in the dressing room, both of them smiling. 

“Dean!” Balthazar said, rising to greet him. “Good to see you again. And you’ve brought a friend! Who might this be?”

“Very funny, Bal,” Cas said, rolling his eyes. “I know, I haven’t been here in a few weeks.”

“And I get the feeling you’re not here tonight because you missed me,” Balthazar said shrewdly, looking between Dean and Cas with interest. “Ah well. Good thing I’m not easily offended. Shall we leave the professionals to their work?”

Cas nodded and crossed the room to give Dean a lingering kiss. “I’ll see you out there,” he murmured as he pulled away.

“I’ll be looking for you,” Dean replied. Balthazar offered them a nod, and then left Lisa and Dean alone.

She raised one dark eyebrow at him. “So, what, are you starring in the super-progressive Pretty Woman remake with two male leads?”

“Ha ha, no,” Dean replied, grimacing. “I mean, yeah, we’re dating, but it’s not like that.”

Lisa nodded. “Good. As long as you’re happy, and he doesn’t try to make you feel bad about your job, good for you.”

Dean snorted. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“Me neither, if him being here tonight is any indication.”

“Oh yeah. We’ve got plans,” Dean said with a leer.

“Gross.” Lisa crinkled her nose at him. “You’re both gorgeous, but still. I don’t need to hear about that.”

Dean just laughed, pulling her into a quick hug. “I’m glad it’s you with me here tonight,” he said. “Not like when I got stuck dancing with Lily a few weeks ago.”

Lisa shuddered. “Yikes.”

They finished getting ready in comfortable silence, and then with a deep breath, they hit the stage.

Dean didn’t have much of a chance to look for Cas until towards the end of their routine, too focused on Lisa the rest of the time. But as they split apart for a few seconds before circling back towards each other, he spotted Cas in the far corner of the room, watching him with a surprisingly soft look in his eyes. Dean winked in that general direction, drawing a few cheers, and Cas’ smile broadened.

His next routine was a solo one, and as soon as the music started and the lights went back on, Dean saw Cas come to full attention. Dean smiled to himself, knowing he’d picked the right thing to wear today: bright blue briefs with lace sides. The exact colour of Cas’ eyes, in fact. The room was too dark and Cas was too far away to see him properly, but Dean would bet a million dollars those eyes darkened noticeably as he danced.

He made sure to put a little extra sway into his movements, which went over well with the entire room. It looked like this night would be a success in more ways than one.

As the song came to an end, Dean looked over at Cas, who tilted his head to the side, indicating that Dean should meet him outside after his dance. Dean managed a tiny nod that wouldn’t be noticed by anyone else, and then returned his focus to his last move, which left him on the floor, limbs spread in all directions as the room burst into applause.

On nights like this, Dean really loved his job.

He waved to the crowd and cut through the dressing room on his way to find Cas. Lisa wasn’t there, probably on the phone checking in with Ben’s babysitter. He debated putting his clothes back on, then decided against it. 

It was a good idea, apparently, because the second he stepped out into the hall, Cas was there, an extremely appreciative noise escaping his lips. “Dean,” he said quietly, “you were incredible.”

Dean hummed happily, glancing around the hallway. There was no one in sight, but that probably wouldn’t last long. He took Cas by the hand and led him towards one of the open doors down the hall. Cas gave him a bemused look, but didn’t protest.

When Dean turned and locked the door behind them, he heard Cas’ sharply indrawn breath and grinned to himself. They were definitely on the same page here.

Cas found the switch for the lamp in the corner of the room and turned it on. He’d probably been in this same room for the same purpose on other nights like this, but Dean didn’t really care about that right now. 

“C’mere,” he said, beckoning Cas forward.

As soon as he was within reach, he grabbed Cas by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a deep kiss, twining his arms around his neck and pressing himself closer. He was still just wearing those blue underwear, and the cotton of Cas’ shirt was soft against his bare skin, but not as soft as Cas’ hands, skimming down over his back to rest at his waist.

Dean sighed and relaxed into Cas’ touch, his head rolling to the side to expose his neck as Cas trailed kisses across his jaw and down his neck. He startled slightly when Cas’ hands wandered lower, grabbing his ass, but then chuckled.

“You like ‘em?” he asked.

“I like you in them,” Cas muttered. “But I may be biased. I like you in everything.”

“Well, sadly, if you keep that up, we might ruin them,” Dean said, pulling Cas’ hands away from him. At his disappointed look, Dean laughed again. “Don’t worry, babe.”

He brushed one hand against the front of Castiel’s jeans, feeling the bulge of his erection even through the denim. Cas sucked in a breath that turned into a moan as Dean gripped him through his pants, then slowly lowered himself to his knees in one fluid movement.

“Fuck,” Cas muttered. “Dean…”

“Do you want me to stop?” Dean asked, looking up at him. 

Cas shook his head furiously. “No. Please.”

“Okay then.”

Dean dragged Cas’ zipper down, making sure to tease him with brief instances of contact along the way. He pushed his jeans and boxers down far enough to reveal Cas’ erection, then delicately traced the length of it with one fingertip. Cas shuddered, the muscles in his legs straining as he held himself upright. “Dean,” he said again, a hint of pleading in his voice.

“I got you, Cas,” Dean said, then leaned forward and took the tip of Cas’ cock into his mouth. Cas had a really nice dick, Dean thought. Not porn-star big, but long and thick enough to stretch his lips as he took him in further, working him with lips and tongue as Cas groaned above him.

He felt one of Cas’ hands settle in his hair, just lightly, and leaned into the touch. “Incredible,” Cas repeated, his voice wrecked. 

Dean could feel himself getting hard just from the noises Cas was making, and he shifted slightly, willing himself not to lose too much of his cool. He had to go back to performing after this, but it was hard to remain unaffected when Cas was running his hands through his hair, sighing deeply as Dean continued to worship him with his mouth.

If Dean’s calculations were correct, he only had about five more minutes before he was due back on stage. He redoubled his efforts, taking Cas’ cock further into his mouth, and was satisfied when his hands tightened in his hair. “Dean,” Cas warned. “I’m going to--”

Dean pulled back for a second, long enough to look Cas in the eye and nod before returning to his task, and it didn’t take much longer before Cas was spilling into his mouth. Dean swallowed it down easily, letting Cas’ cock sit heavily on his tongue until Cas gently pulled him off and helped him to his feet.

He rubbed his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone, his eyes fond. “How long had you been planning that?” he asked. 

“A long time,” Dean replied, catching his hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. 

“Do you want--” Cas nodded in the direction of Dean’s groin, his own erection pressing against the silky material of his underwear.

“Nah,” Dean said. “I’ve got a few minutes. I’ll be okay.”

Or so he hoped.

Cas raised an eyebrow at him, but refrained from commenting. Instead, he tucked himself back into his jeans and zipped them up, then tugged Dean into the adjoining bathroom to fix his hair.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean chuckled, catching sight of himself in the mirror, “this doesn’t look suspicious at all.”

Cas shrugged, unapologetic. “You started it,” he pointed out. “I can’t be faulted for my enthusiasm.”

“I liked it,” Dean told him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Besides, the messy look is in.”

“Oh?” Cas reached over and deliberately ruffled Dean’s hair. “There you go, then.”

“Jackass,” Dean said affectionately. “Not bad, though.” He ran his fingers through his hair one more time before turning away, satisfied. 

“Alright, now walk me back to the dressing room.”

“So bossy,” Cas murmured, lightly trailing his hand down Dean’s arm. “But I like it.”

Dean smiled and took his hand. “You gonna stick around for the second set?”

Cas paused for a second, then shook his head. “No, I think I should make nice with Balthazar. I know he was joking earlier, but I do feel somewhat bad for not attending for weeks, then only showing up because you would be here too.”

“And you say you have no social skills,” Dean said as they reached the dressing room. “I’m proud of you, babe. Go be a good friend.”

“I’ll find you back here at midnight?”

“You bet.” 

With one last kiss and a long, lingering look, Cas was gone.

“You totally just had sex, didn’t you,” Lisa said, appearing out of nowhere.

Startled, Dean looked over at her. “No,” he said quickly.

She didn’t look convinced.

“Maybe?” he tried.

“I don’t want the details,” she said, brushing past him to enter the room. “Just put that energy into your dancing, alright? Make us some money.”

“Like I don’t do that already,” Dean grumbled.

She patted his cheek. “Make us _more_ money, then.”

“Fine,” Dean said. “Let’s milk this crowd for all they’re worth, Braeden.”

“You’re on, Winchester.”

Whether it was leftover endorphins from his stolen moments with Cas or the thrill of the challenge he and Lisa had set for themselves, their energy was infectious. The crowd was bigger than it had been at any of the previous parties, and they paid very, very well. By the time Dean and Lisa ran through two more combined routines and two solos each, they’d made more money than Dean had ever made in a single night before.

“I almost feel bad about this,” Lisa said as they were getting dressed at the end of the night. “But then I think to myself-- they do this every weekend. And I don’t feel bad anymore.”

“Don’t feel bad at all, my dear,” Balthazar said, sweeping into the room with Cas by his side. “You deserve every penny of it. As do you, Dean.”

“Thanks, I think,” Dean said. “Here’s to another successful night.”

He turned back to Lisa. “Do you need a ride home?”

“I’ve got somebody picking me up,” she replied. There was a faint flush in her cheeks that Dean was pretty sure wasn’t just from dancing.

“Oh?” he asked, intrigued. He knew Lisa hadn’t been having much luck dating recently, so if she found someone, he’d be delighted for her. 

“Shut up,” she said, punching him lightly in the arm. “You don’t tease me, and I won’t tell the rest of the crew about your little interlude tonight.”

“Deal.” He gave her a brief hug, then looked at Cas. “Ready?”

Cas said a whispered goodbye to Balthazar, then nodded at Dean. “Ready.”

Dean found himself yawning as they made their way out to the car. Cas must have noticed, because he stopped before getting in, and looked at Dean consideringly.

“Do you want me to drive?” he asked.

Honestly, it would be kind of nice, but…

“Haven’t you been drinking?”

No way he was risking either their safety or Baby’s with that kind of stupid decision.

“Not since the glass of champagne I had when I arrived,” Cas replied. “I’m fine.”

He did look fine. Probably more alert than Dean was at the moment, honestly. He shrugged and tossed Cas the keys. “I trust you.”

Cas laughed as he rounded the car. “Your faith means the world to me, Dean.”

They didn’t talk much on the drive, but as they reached the centre of town, Cas looked over at him. “Do you want me to take you home?” he asked quietly.

Dean thought about it for a second. He had nothing planned for the next day, and it was supposed to rain, so maybe he and Cas could just spend the day in his basement watching movies. “Let’s go to your place,” he suggested.

He could see the flash of Cas’ smile even in the dark car. “My house it is.”

By the time they got there, Dean was barely awake. Cas chuckled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him up the stairs and into his bedroom, then patiently helping him out of his clothes until he was left in plain cotton boxers.

“Sorry these aren’t as cute as my last outfit,” Dean said around another yawn.

Cas kissed him quickly. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

He took off his own clothes, and as much as Dean admired the long lines of his body as he moved, he was just too tired to do anything about it. So when Cas climbed into the bed beside him, he just rolled over and burrowed into his arms. “Night, Cas,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, Dean.” He felt Cas’ kiss on his cheek like a blessing, and he was pretty sure he was still smiling when he fell asleep.

***

He should have known that things were going too well. When did anything good in his life ever last for long?

Dean was on his way up to his apartment on a Wednesday at the end of the month, looking forward to dinner with Sam before heading back out to the club. He stopped to pick up the mail along the way, rifling through the junk and frowning at a plain envelope addressed to both he and Sam. 

“Hey, Sam,” he called out as he entered the apartment. “We’ve got mail.”

“We?” Sam repeated, wandering out from his room. “That’s weird.”

Dean passed it to him, and Sam opened it and began to read. His face went pale, and Dean leaned forward instinctively, his mind already racing with all the awful possibilities.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Sam’s mouth twisted in displeasure. “It’s from the building management company. Rent increases, starting in September.”

“What?” Dean snatched the letter away from Sam, scanning over it. “What the-- that’s ridiculous! Can they even raise it that much in one year?”

Sam was already typing away furiously. “Technically, yes,” he said with a sigh. He ran his hands through his hair and looked up at Dean. “What are we going to do?”

Fuck. Dean hated that look. The look that said Sam was worried, but not too worried, because he trusted Dean to figure things out. It was a lot to live up to.

He paced around the kitchen, mind whirring. He could ask Bela to work every party at Balthazar’s, but he didn’t know if either of them would go for that. And the guests might get bored of the same entertainment every week and start tipping less. He couldn’t ask Charlie for a raise-- he knew most of their extra income went to charity, and hell if he was going to ask to put a dent in their contributions. 

He sighed and pinched his nose. “If I pick up another shift at the club on Sundays, it might be enough to cover it,” he said. “That’s assuming Bela lets me, and that I get enough time to actually make any money, which isn’t guaranteed because the others will still want their regular hours too.”

“But then you’d have no days off,” Sam argued. “That’s ridiculous, Dean, you can’t live like that.”

“I’d still have Saturday and Sunday during the day,” Dean replied, thinking it through. “It’s not ideal, obviously, but it’s still some time.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” Sam muttered. “We can look for another place.”

Dean laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Where, Sam? You remember what it was like finding this place. I’m not living anywhere like the other buildings we checked out. I’d rather have no days off.”

“We’ll think of something,” Sam said stubbornly. “I know it.”

“Okay, Sam.” Dean sighed and went to get changed for his shift at the club. He’d have to fake it extra hard tonight. Earning those dollars was more important than ever.

Of course, it was a slow night, and Dean’s mood grew darker as the night went on. Even as few brief messages from Cas couldn’t lift his spirits. _Can we have lunch tomorrow?_ he wrote back on his break. _I want to see you_. 

_Of course_.

Dean frowned and put his phone away. He’d have to find a way to break the news to Cas that he would have even less time to spend with him in the future. It would suck, and he wouldn’t blame him if he got upset. 

He managed to power through the rest of his shift. Victor kept giving him these looks like he knew something was up, but he didn’t press for information. He was good like that. Dean knew the others would have his back if he wanted to talk, but all he wanted to do was go to sleep. 

Sam was already in bed by the time he got home, thank god, so Dean was spared another earnest conversation. He ignored another message from Cas and fell into bed, hoping he would wake up and realize this had all been a bad dream.

It wasn’t.

He and Sam barely spoke the next morning, both of them staring into their coffee like it would hold all the answers to their problem. He waved listlessly as Sam left, and then dragged himself out the door after him. 

Luckily for him, there were several parts that needed to be picked up that morning, so he didn’t have to play nice with any customers or spend much time at the house. As absorbed as they could get in their work, eventually one of them would notice Dean’s mood. Charlie was especially good at reading him, so it was convenient to be away from her for the time being.

He was supposed to meet Castiel for lunch at the park downtown at noon. He was about fifteen minutes late, of course, so he was already in a bad mood, but the sight of Cas sitting at a picnic table waiting for him helped him feel a bit better.

“Hey,” he called out as he approached. “Sorry I’m late.”

“I don’t mind,” Cas said. “It was rather pleasant, just sitting here, enjoying the day.” 

Dean slumped down beside him, resting his head on Cas’ shoulder, and closed his eyes. Cas’ arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Dean? Is everything okay?”

“Not really,” Dean replied, voice muffled by the fact that his face was still buried in Cas’ shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas shifted beneath him so Dean was forced to raise his head and look him in the eyes.

Dean didn’t really know how to sugarcoat it. “My landlord’s a dick and our rent is going up by a stupid amount starting in September and I don’t know how we’re going to afford it.”

Cas frowned, but didn’t say anything.

“This is the part where you tell me you’re sorry and that everything will work out fine,” Dean prompted him.

“What?” Cas blinked at him. “Oh. I am sorry, Dean. Is he legally allowed to do that?”

“Yeah, he’s the king of loopholes,” Dean said with a bitter laugh. “I don’t want to look for another place, either. I know all the buildings in town from when we found this one, and we got lucky with it. I guess our luck just ran out.”

He snuck a worried glance at Cas. “I’m going to have to start working Sunday nights too,” he said quietly. “I know it’s basically our only full day together, and I’m sorry, but I don’t really have any other options.”

“Of course you do,” Cas said immediately. “Move in with me.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, right.”

But Cas just kept looking at him, his gaze steady. 

“You’re serious,” Dean said incredulously. 

Cas nodded.

“You can’t be serious!” Dean exclaimed.

“Why not?” Cas frowned. “You need a place to live. I have an enormous house. It makes perfect sense.”

“No it doesn’t,” Dean argued. “What about Sam? No way I’m leaving him stranded.”

Cas waved a dismissive hand. “I have plenty of spare bedrooms. There’s more than enough space for him as well.”

“Okay, fine. But there’s still no way that’s happening.”

“Why not?” Castiel asked, an edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “You have a problem, I have a solution. It’s as simple as that.”

“It is _not_ simple!” Dean kept his voice down, not wanting to attract the attention of passers-by, but he knew Cas would hear the heat in his tone regardless. “Cas, we’ve known each other for a grand total of what, three months?”

“So?” Castiel shrugged. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You don’t think that’s moving a bit too fast?”

“I don’t know. I told you, I don’t really do relationships.”

“And that’s the problem! Normal people don’t move in together after only three months, Cas.”

Cas threw his hands in the air. “So we’re not normal, who cares! Like I said, it makes sense. If you insist on working yourself to death instead, so be it.”

Dean took a deep breath. He could feel tears of frustration welling behind his eyes, and he refused to let them fall. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“I hear myself making a practical suggestion and you ignoring it, yes,” Castiel snapped. 

Dean bit his lip hard. “Stop. Just stop.”

“Stop what? Dean, I don’t understand you at all. You told me your issue, and I’m trying to fix it for you,” Cas said, his voice pleading.

“My life is not a problem for you to fix!” Dean yelled. A few heads turned in their direction, and he winced. So much for not making a scene. 

“God, Cas. I really thought we left this shit behind us, but I guess not,” he said, quieter this time. “I don’t need saving. I don’t need fixing. I don’t need you and your piles of money, carrying me off to a life of luxury like in some fucking Harlequin romance.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Cas protested.

“No?” Dean asked. “Then tell me this: if you were dating someone with just as much money as you, would you ask them to move in with you after only three months?”

Cas started to reply, and then stopped.

“That’s what I thought,” Dean sighed. “You know what it sounded like when you asked me that, Cas?”

“What?”

“A business deal. You kept talking about it making sense, about it being practical. Not once did you mention actually _wanting_ me to move in with you.”

“Would that change things? I admit, the idea has merit, Dean. We could spend more time together…” he trailed off, noticing the way Dean was looking at him.

“No, Cas. I wish that it changed anything, but it doesn’t. If we take that step, it should be because we want to, not because you think you have to save me.”

“I don’t think that-- I just want to help, Dean. Please.” Cas’s voice had softened, and his eyes were bright with emotions Dean couldn’t pinpoint. “I do care about you, Dean. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long, long time. I told you I’m not very good with people, Dean, but you give me hope that I could be.”

Dean closed his eyes again and laughed bitterly. “Then how do you know it’s really me you care about, and not just the idea of me? How do I know that?”

Castiel’s face fell. “Are you suggesting I like the idea of feeling something for you more than I actually feel it?”

“Yeah, Cas, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I think you’ve bought into the whole story. Guy meets guy, after a rough start they get together, guy has problems, other guy swoops in and carries him off on his white horse or stupid expensive car, in your case.” 

Dean knew he was being unfair, but he was just so tired. Tired of not knowing what to believe.

“And it’s a great story, Cas, it really is. But it’s not real life. And I won’t let it be mine.” He stood up, scrubbing a hand across his cheek to wipe away the tears that had fallen despite his efforts to hold them back. 

“Dean, what are you--” Cas started to stand, but Dean shook his head sharply, and he slumped back to the bench, still looking up at him in confusion.

“I think you’re a good guy, Cas,” Dean said softly. “I really do. But I don’t think we can be together anymore.”

“You can’t be serious.” Cas’ face was pale, and his hands were tightly clenched to his sides. “Dean, wait. We can work this out.”

Dean shook his head sadly. “Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe this is for the best.”

“I don’t believe that,” Cas said, and he did stand this time, but when he took a step towards Dean, Dean took one back. Cas’ face fell even further, and Dean could feel his own heart shattering into pieces in his chest. 

But this was the right thing to do. Maybe Cas did truly care about him, maybe he didn’t. It didn’t really matter, in the end. He had been stupid to think they could work around their different situations in life. At least he’d realized it now, before either of them got any deeper into this thing. 

“I hope you find somebody who makes you happy, Cas,” he said. “I just don’t think it can be me.”

He ignored Cas calling after him and turned away, brushing aside his tears. 

He texted Charlie once he got back to his car. _I’m not feeling well. If I go home to nap, will you guys be alright?_

_Of course _, she replied immediately. _Feel better soon_.__

__His phone rang as he pulled away, and he knew it would be Cas without even checking. He didn’t answer. He got home without having a total breakdown, thankfully, and collapsed into bed. His phone kept ringing, so he turned it off._ _

__Maybe he would eventually work up the nerve to call Cas back, but he didn’t think so. If they talked, Cas would manage to break down his resolve somehow, and they’d fall back into their relationship, and it would eventually sour when Cas realized Dean was never going to be able to give him what he wanted. He was too busy, too independent, too proud for that. Just too much._ _

__Cas deserved to find love with someone who could spend more than one day a week with him. Who would go to those fancy restaurants and attend Balthazar’s parties as a guest, not as the hired entertainment._ _

__And Dean deserved to know that his partner cared about him as a person and not just as character in a fairy-tale._ _

__It was fun while it lasted. But it was over now, and Dean would just have to deal with that like he dealt with all the other shit that life liked to throw his way. With a smile on his face and a shake of his ass, he’d get through this._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY.
> 
> This was actually the initial idea I had for this fic, and everything else kind of spun out from around it. I don't get the feeling this is the drama most of you anticipated, so....please don't kill me!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel is sad and I find an excuse to give unsolicited book recommendations.

If this was what it felt like to be invested, Castiel didn’t want to experience it ever again.

He should have tried harder to get Dean to stay and talk to him, that day in the park. But he’d been completely caught off-guard, and it took him too long to realize exactly what was happening. Somehow, Dean had made a decision about the two of them before Castiel was even aware there was anything to choose between.

Maybe if he had more experience with relationships, he would have seen it coming.

It was useless to dwell on the possibilities, of course, but that didn’t stop him. Another downside of being a rich, unemployed person: too much time to spend trapped inside your own head. 

He tried calling Dean, that first day. But he never picked up, not even to tell him to stop calling. After the tenth call, Castiel threw his phone across the room. It hit the wall with a resounding crack, and as far as he knew, it was still there, probably shattered into pieces.

What a metaphor that was.

After about a week of this, he woke one morning to the sound of Hannah gently tapping on his door. She never disturbed him when he was sleeping, so he knew it had to be important. He climbed out of bed, wearing only his boxers, and reminded himself to give her a raise when she made no comment on his attire.

“You have a visitor,” she said. “He’s waiting in the front room.”

For a brief second, Castiel’s heart leapt in his chest, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it was Dean. 

“Is it--” he asked, but Hannah shook her head.

“Your friend Balthazar,” she replied. There was a pitying look on her face that told Castiel she knew more about his love life than he previously realized. “I’ll make some breakfast for you both.”

“Thank you, Hannah,” he said. She gave him another soft smile and left.

Castiel didn’t bother getting properly dressed, just threw on his most comfortable robe and went downstairs to join Balthazar, who was idly flicking through something on his phone.

“Cas!” he exclaimed, rising to his feet. “You’re alive, thank god.”

Castiel allowed himself to be embraced, but he didn’t return the gesture. Far from offended, Balthazar drew back and looked him over with concern. “I’ve been trying to call you for days. Finally had to drive out here to see what the hell was going on.”

There was no point avoiding the subject. Balthazar was very persuasive, and would get the story out of him eventually. “Dean broke up with me,” he said flatly.

Balthazar blinked at him in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t make me say it again.” 

“Jesus, Cas. What happened? I thought things were going so well.”

“So did I,” Castiel said softly. “I don’t really want to go into all the details, Bal.”

“Okay,” Balthazar said. “Can you fix it?”

Castiel laughed hollowly at those words. _Fix it_. Thinking that way was exactly the problem, according to Dean.

Hannah entered the room and set a tray of food on the table in front of them, and they both looked up to murmur their thanks before she left again.

Picking up a cup of coffee, Castiel stared down into it. “I tried. He wouldn’t pick up.”

“Hence my inability to reach you,” Balthazar said understandingly. “I’m sorry, truly.”

“I am too.” Castiel sipped at his coffee and tried to force himself to eat, but he didn’t have much of an appetite.

“You can’t just mope around here forever, though,” Balthazar continued. 

“Why not? It’s not like I have a job to do, or anyone who needs me.”

Balthazar poked him none-too-gently in the chest. “Cut the pity party right now, do you hear me? Find something to do. You’re never going to move forward if you stay stuck in here.”

“So what? I should start coming back to your parties, drinking away my sorrows, finding someone new to fuck every night again?” The idea held no appeal for Castiel. Honestly, it sounded exhausting.

“No,” Balthazar said, shaking his head. “Going back to your old life won’t help you either. You’re going to have to try something new, I think.”

“I don’t like new things,” Castiel grumbled. “Dating was new. Dean was new. Look where that got me.”

“Dear god, you’re melodramatic,” Balthazar muttered. “Look. You’re going to be thinking about him no matter what. It’s natural. But you need something else to distract you at least occasionally, or you’ll go mad.”

Castiel wasn’t convinced. Balthazar’s advice hadn’t always gone well for him in the past. But what he was saying did make a certain amount of sense, especially the part about thinking about Dean regardless. He couldn’t fight that. But he could at least try to keep it from taking over his life completely.

“Any suggestions?” he asked. “Knitting? Croquet? Video games?”

“Whatever you want, Cas,” Balthazar said. “And if you need a partner for croquet, you know where to find me.”

He drained the last of his coffee and rested a gentle hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Fix your phone,” he advised. “And text me once in awhile so I know you’re alright.”

“Okay,” Castiel replied, meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Balthazar.”

“Of course.” With a last little wave, Balthazar left, and Castiel was alone once more.

He nibbled at a muffin, thinking over their conversation. He already had a fairly strict exercise routine, and didn’t have much interest in bulking up further, so he dismissed that possibility. Knitting would probably just frustrate him. Video games seemed too daunting, somehow-- he wouldn’t even know where to start. And croquet was a definite no.

If he wanted this to work, it would have to be something that actually interested him, not just something he was doing because he needed to. The only thing that really interested him was reading, and he already did plenty of that. 

It was an intensely personal habit, though. The point of this exercise would be to get out of his own head for once. Maybe he could somehow translate his love of books into something interactive?

A blog was the obvious answer. He was well aware that it was a complete cliché, some rich person sitting around on their computer like they were the most important authority on a given topic, but he did need something to occupy his time, and this was the most promising option so far.

Feeling more energized than he had in days, he headed to the library, scanning over the floor-to-ceiling shelves that lined the walls. Where to even begin? A review of a long-time favourite? A selection of top-five lists loosely grouped by genre? 

No, that was too ambitious. He grabbed the last book he had finished, sat down at the large wooden table in the centre of the room, and opened his computer. It took him a few minutes to come up a vaguely interesting name that sounded appropriate for his subject and wasn’t already in use, but he eventually settled on _Rich Boy Reads_ , because he was never above self-mockery. 

Now, for his first post. He tapped his fingers on the keyboard for a few minutes, and then started to type. 

_Hello, Internet,_ he began. _I’m not sure anyone will even find this site, but if you have, welcome. But you’re not here for me, you’re here for the books. And so._

As he typed, he was surprised to feel himself smiling. Maybe no one would even read this-- he didn’t plan on using his real name, and there were already so many book blogs out there-- but he didn’t care. It was nice to lay all his thoughts out on the page for once instead of just chasing them around his head. 

There was a good chance he would lose interest in this after a while, but at least for the time being, it was a very welcome distraction.

***

Two more weeks passed. Castiel got a new phone. Dean didn’t call.

He wanted to try to reach out again, wondering if enough time had passed by now for Dean to be willing to speak to him. But he also didn’t want to press the matter. He’d learned a few things about boundaries over the course of their relationship, apparently. 

He attended one of Balthazar’s parties, just to get out of the house and prove to his friend that he was still alive, but he avoided the room upstairs where he knew the dancers would be performing. He mostly stuck to Balthazar’s side for the evening, and he only had a few drinks. He received more than a few invitations, some more detailed than others, but he declined them all. He’d never had any issue with casual sex before, but he knew falling into bed with someone else would only make him feel worse, and it would also feel like he was using that person in a way he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. So he smiled politely and let them all down as gently as he could, and he went back to his big empty bed alone. 

The next week, Balthazar texted him to say Dean would be there that night. Castiel debated for hours, going back and forth on whether to show up. He wanted to talk to Dean, and it would give him the perfect opportunity, but it could also be uncomfortable for Dean, and he never wanted that. Not again. 

So he didn’t go. He spent the whole night wondering what Dean was wearing, what songs he was dancing to, how many other people were in the room watching him. 

But he also wondered if Dean was getting enough sleep. If his long days and nights of work were catching up to him. If he and Sam were tense with each other from the stress, or if they were even closer because of their struggles. 

He wondered if Dean missed him.

He tried to spend more time out of the house, which seemed even bigger and emptier than it had before, though he couldn’t really explain why. Maybe because for a brief shining moment, he’d thought Dean would be living here with him, and now he knew that would never happen. 

Instead of just ordering every book he was interested in reading, he went and got himself a library card, and he would occasionally take his book with him to a coffee shop to read instead of going directly home. The baristas recognized him from the start, but the longer he frequented the cafes, the more genuine their smiles became. They started to remember him because he was a regular, not just because he was Castiel Novak.

He was never going to be a social butterfly, but it was still nice to form those connections, shallow as they might be. He’d never really realized how little human interaction he had in his daily life until he started dating Dean, and he was surprised at how much he missed it while he was busy wallowing in his misery that first week after their break-up. Nobody was as interesting or as captivating as Dean, of course, but he had to admit, he was starting to see the value in individual people in a way he never had before. 

One sunny day in mid-August, he ran into Sam on the street as he left the library, which was just down the block from the police station. Startled, Castiel took a step back, unsure what to say.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam’s voice was subdued, and his smile looked slightly forced.

“Hello, Sam.” He wished this didn’t have to be awkward. He liked Sam. He wanted to ask how he was doing, if he was looking forward to going back to school or if he would miss his internship, but he didn’t know how familiar he was permitted to be at this point.

“He’s a good writer,” Sam said, nodding at the Marcus Sedgwick book in Castiel’s hand. “Haven’t read that one yet, though.”

Grateful for the neutral topic, Castiel nodded. “Yes, I read him when I was younger, and I’m glad to see he’s still writing.”

“I hope you like it,” Sam said. “Good to see you, Cas. Take care of yourself.”

He nodded and turned to walk away. 

“Wait,” Castiel called after him. He saw Sam’s shoulders tense like he had been expecting it, and there was a resigned look on his face when he turned back towards Castiel.

“How is he?” Castiel asked softly.

Sam shook his head, a little sadly. “I’m not getting involved,” he said. “Sorry, Cas.”

Of course his first loyalty would be to his brother. Castiel understood that. And even Sam’s non-answer told him that Dean was coping reasonably well. If Sam had reason to be worried, surely he would tell Cas that, or blame him for it. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “Have a good day, Sam.”

“You too.” 

This time, when Sam walked away, Castiel didn’t call him back. He sighed and headed for his car. He had planned to go to the cafe to read, but changed his mind. He didn’t think he could handle being around that many people at the moment. 

But even that brief conversation left him restless, and he couldn’t focus on his book when he got home and sat down with it. He opened his computer instead, and saw that he had several e-mails alerting him to new comments on his blog.

Frowning, he went to his site and loaded the posts that had received comments. So far, blogging had felt mostly like shouting into the void. He wasn’t sure what to expect-- he really didn’t want to be yelled at today, even by a stranger on the Internet. 

On his effusive review of Sorcerer to the Crown, a user named Alfie had commented _This sounds amazing! Can’t wait to check it out. Thanks for the review, love your site._

Castiel smiled as he read it. That wasn’t so bad.

On another post about his favourite fantasy novels from childhood, an anonymous user wrote _Dude, we have the exact same taste! Got any recs for adult stuff I should check out?_

He immediately started typing a reply, listing off a number of books he thought they would enjoy, and then mentally composing a new post, recommending newer titles based on things people liked from when they were younger. 

He spent the entire afternoon working on it, and it was only when he had it finished and posted that he realized just how much his mood had improved. Maybe he owed Balthazar a fruit basket after all.

His phone rang, and he reached for it, surprised. Nobody called him anymore. Balthazar preferred to text or drop by in person. Had Sam told Dean about their encounter, and then--

But no. It wasn’t Dean. 

“Anna?” he said, lifting the phone to his ear. “This is a surprise.”

“Hi, Cas.” She sounded tentative, almost as though she was surprised to be calling as well. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he answered. He wasn’t about to go into the details of his current emotional state with her, especially not when he had no idea why she was calling in the first place. “Is everything alright? Nobody’s sick, are they?”

She let out a little laugh. “No, everything’s fine. I just...thought I’d reach out to you.”

Castiel made a face, glad that she couldn’t see him. “Why?” he asked. Maybe that was a bit blunt, but she wouldn’t expect anything else from him.

Sure enough, he heard her exasperated sigh clearly even through the phone line. “Because it was nice seeing you last month, and I wanted to ask how you were doing,” she said patiently. “How’s Dean?”

He should have been prepared for her to ask that, considering how charmed she’d been by him at the charity dinner, but hearing her say his name still made him wince. 

He could lie. He could tell her everything was fine, change the subject, pretend he had something incredibly important to do and promise to call her back later, then never do so. A few months ago, that’s exactly what he would have done. 

Instead, he found himself saying, “Dean broke up with me.”

Even as he heard himself say it, he realized it was exactly the same way he had recounted the episode to Balthazar. Not _Dean and I broke up_ or even _We’re not together anymore_. It sounded like he was placing all the blame on Dean when he phrased it this way, and that wasn’t really fair. 

After all, it had been his own fault. He’d pushed too hard, made too many mistakes. If anybody was to blame, it was him. 

“Oh,” Anna said softly. “Cas, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“How could you be expected to know? It’s not like we talk regularly.”

“And maybe that’s what I’m trying to change.”

“Why?” Castiel asked. “I’m sorry, I’m not even trying to be rude, I just...don’t understand where this is coming from.”

Anna was quiet for a minute, and he thought she’d hung up on him. But then she finally answered. “Did you know I’d just been dumped the night of the charity dinner?”

Castiel almost dropped the phone in his surprise. “No,” he said. “You never said anything.”

“Because we don’t talk about things like that,” Anna said with a little laugh. “We never have.”

“What happened?” He was curious despite himself. He never would have guessed from her behaviour that night that she had just been broken up with.

“He was seeing someone else. He picked her.”

“And you never suspected?”

“No. I thought we were happy. I was happy,” she said. “I guess he was happier with her.”

“Why didn’t you say you were sick? Stay home?” Castiel asked. 

“I guess I wanted to believe that I could keep up appearances. That if I smiled and danced and made small talk with all the right people, it would hurt less, somehow.”

“But it didn’t.”

“Of course not.”

“I’m sorry that we didn’t realize something was wrong,” he told her. “I don’t know that we would have been any help, but at least you wouldn’t have had to pretend to be okay when you weren’t.”

“It’s funny you should say that,” Anna said. “Because you know what did help?”

“What?”

“Watching you and Dean,” she said softly. “I’m sorry if this is hard to hear, now.”

It was, but Castiel wanted to hear it anyways. “It’s alright. Go on.”

“You two looked so happy,” Anna continued. “Cas, I’d never seen you like that. Ever. And even though I was feeling sorry for myself, I thought, look. It isn’t always heartbreak and pain. Look at my grouchy little brother, smiling and laughing with this great guy who doesn’t seem to give a shit about his money or his family, but just likes him for him.”

Castiel closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. “It was a good night,” he commented.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” she asked softly. 

Generally, his answer to that question was a resounding no. But in light of what Anna had just told him...maybe she was the right person to listen. 

“You probably already know that Dean doesn’t come from money the way we do,” he started. “It’s been an occasional point of contention, but things had mostly smoothed out. And then he found out his landlord was raising his rent, and he would have to pick up shifts on his only day off to cover the change, and I suggested he should just move in with me.”

“And he wasn’t ready for that type of commitment?” Anna asked.

“That wasn’t even the problem,” Castiel sighed. “I was too formal about it, presented it as a solution rather than something I wanted. He said I would never ask someone to move in with me so quickly if there weren’t money issues.”

Anna was quiet for a moment. “I hate to say it, Cas, but it sounds like he had a point.”

“I know he did,” Castiel replied. “I just wish we could have talked it out, tried to make things work, instead of just ending it so abruptly.”

“But he didn’t want to?”

“He said I was buying into a fairytale,” Castiel said bitterly. “He accused me of being in love with the idea of a relationship more than actually caring about him.”

“Ouch,” Anna commented. “That’s a bit harsh.”

“We were never very good at being delicate with each other,” Castiel replied. “I think that’s part of why I liked him so much. He challenged me. Everybody else just wanted to please me too much to argue.”

“Yeah, I don’t see that being his style,” Anna laughed. “We had a good talk when we were dancing, you know. I’m really sorry to hear things didn’t work out between the two of you.”

“Thank you.” It didn’t do much good to hear it now, but he appreciated the thought. “He actually told me I should work harder with you and the rest of the family, you know. I think he’d be happy to know we’re talking, even if it is mostly about him. “

“This is kind of nice, right?” Anna said. 

Castiel smiled. “It is.”

“Maybe we could try it again sometime?” She sounded less hesitant now, almost teasing.

“And maybe next time we’ll even have more pleasant things to discuss than our broken hearts,” he replied.

“If all else fails, we can discuss Hael’s latest antics.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“Bye, Cas,” Anna said.

“Bye, Anna. And thank you.”

He ended the call, still smiling as he plugged his phone in to charge. Who would have predicted such a shift in his relationship with his sister after twenty-seven years of polite, dutiful affection? 

He wondered what it would have been like if they had talked like that growing up. If he had come home the night he lost his virginity to find Anna waiting up for him, eager to hear the details. Or if he had been the one she called when she first got her heart broken. If they’d had family dinners even once a week, sharing stories about school and friends and whatever else normal people talked about.

He made a mental note to give Gabriel a call sometime soon. He wouldn’t be able to build solid relationships with all his family members overnight, but he could start small. He was already closest to Gabriel. Maybe he could arrange a visit. It might be nice to get away, and as far as big cities went, he didn’t mind Los Angeles.

It had never been his style to try to find the silver lining in every situation, but when one presented itself, he knew better than to ignore it.

***

Maybe it was a little bit sad, but Castiel really was starting to draw comfort from his blog. It gave shape to his days, writing and posting and replying to comments. He was reading at a slightly slower pace since he spent more time online, but his enjoyment of his books changed as well. Instead of it being a thing only for himself, it became something to share with the little community that had developed on his site.

So far, he’d mostly talked about fantasy and sci-fi, his favourite genres, but a few more contemporary fiction selections had been given some attention as well. His latest find at the library was a slim volume that had caught his eye on the Staff Picks display. Intrigued by the cover design and simple title, he’d brought it home with him, and since he had a few hours left in the evening, he figured he would give it a try. 

An hour later, he put the book down and raised his hand to his cheek, startled to discover that he’d been crying. He didn’t even know when he’d started.

He moved from the armchair to the table and pulled his laptop towards him. He needed to talk to someone about this book, and his small but passionate group of blog followers would be the perfect audience.

_Love isn’t a word I use often_ , he wrote. _Maybe to describe things I’ve enjoyed, but almost never in the sense of the feeling you develop for another person. It’s just never been in my admittedly large vocabulary. But now, after reading David Levithan’s The Lover’s Dictionary, I find myself thinking about all the ways the word shapes our lives even when we don’t say it out loud._

He paused and read over the paragraph. Was it too personal? He didn’t particularly care. He wasn’t using his real name, and even if someone did figure out who was behind the site, it would probably only get him more readers.

_This is an incredible book, made even more so by the fact that it’s so short. Size is not an indication of power or strength, friends. It’s written as a collection of dictionary entries, if dictionary entries were short snippets of a relationship falling apart, told in non-linear structure with no names given to either of our main characters. It shouldn’t work, and yet it does._

_I don’t know what else to say without ruining the experience for you. It’s best to go in knowing less, I think. Like walking into a relationship with both eyes wide open, you’ll still end up surprised._

He debated his closing sentence for a few minutes, then figured he might as well go for broke.

_There’s only one other thing-- one other person-- in my life who’s taught me so much about love. I wish I could tell him to read this book and share his thoughts with me, but our story doesn’t have a happy ending. I hope, whoever you are, that yours does._

He posted the entry before he could change his mind, and closed his laptop gently. He wasn’t particularly tired yet, and he looked around the shelves, wondering if he should start another book.

But even he needed a break from reading sometimes, so he found himself wandering down to his basement, in the mood for some mindless action movie. There were a few of the Marvel films he hadn’t seen yet available on Netflix, so he picked one at random and settled in. 

It held his interest for about an hour, but after the big showdown in the middle of the movie, he started getting restless. He caught himself almost making comments out loud before realizing there was no there to hear them, no one there to reply. 

Christ, now he couldn’t even watch a movie without missing Dean.

It didn’t help that they had seen one of these movies together, he supposed. Their first real date. He remembered how they’d kissed while waiting for the post-credits scene. He’d just have to settle for fast-forwarding now.

But it wasn’t just the kissing that he missed. Part of the fun of watching the movie with Dean had been glancing over to watch his reactions, to see the way his eyes lit up with delight at a particularly inspired visual effect or the way he grinned when a character made a joke that amused him. 

Or the way he talked about it afterwards, his voice full of passion as he recounted his favourite and least favourite parts, what characters it did a disservice to, what elements he hoped they would carry forward into the next film.

It just wasn’t the same without him. Dean’s enthusiasm for the things he loved made them shine in a way that brought them to life for everyone around him. And that was what Castiel missed most of all. 

How could Dean say that Castiel liked the idea of him more than the reality? If that were true, Castiel could have found someone else to watch Marvel movies with by now. But he knew that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Dean, not just some warm and willing body curled up beside him on the couch.

Before he could think better of it, he grabbed his phone and sent Dean a message. 

_I miss you._

He didn’t expect a reply, but he was still disappointed when Dean didn’t text him back. At this point, he might even have preferred an angry message telling Castiel to leave him alone. This silence was highly unpleasant.

He’d hoped that maybe Dean would eventually reach out to him, and if nothing else, they might get some closure. He’d hoped they might try to be friends, without the pressure of spending a certain amount of time together or trying to navigate the differences in their incomes. 

Maybe that was what Dean meant when he said Castiel was thinking of them like characters in a fairy tale. Maybe people didn’t actually switch over to being “just friends” after a break-up, and maybe there was no such thing as closure. Castiel wouldn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted to talk to Dean again, even if just for a few minutes. 

He supposed he could go back to the club and try to see him there, assuming that Benny wouldn’t be under orders to kick him out on sight. As tempting as it was, he knew it was a bad idea. Dean had made a decision, and even though Castiel didn’t have to like it, he did have to respect it. If Dean wanted to see him again, he knew where to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left after this!


	10. Chapter 10

It was strange how quickly Dean’s life went back to normal after he ended things with Cas, if normal was the right word for his life to begin with. 

He missed Cas. Of course he did. But since they barely saw each other except on Sundays anyway, his day-to-day life stayed pretty much the same: work, work again, eat, sleep, repeat. The only real difference was not having someone to text throughout the day, someone to look forward to seeing at the end of the week, someone to make him smile when he was ready to tear out his hair in frustration…

Okay, so maybe Cas’ absence was more conspicuous than he liked to pretend. 

But Dean kept himself busy, his tried-and-true strategy of avoiding his problems by burying himself in work proving helpful once again. Things were going well on that front, at least: he never saw that asshole Alastair again, and when he asked Bela about it, she just gave him an absolutely terrifying smile and told him not to worry his pretty head about it. That was good enough for Dean, though he hoped the police didn’t someday find his body buried in the parking lot or something. That would be bad for business.

And he’d even had an incredible stroke of luck with the apartment situation. Even before Dean got a chance to talk to Bela about picking up a shift at the club on Sundays, he was approached by Pamela, one of their neighbours from the eleventh floor, who he often chatted with while getting the mail. She was looking for a two-bedroom apartment, her one-bedroom would cost slightly less than what Dean and Sam were paying now even with the rent increases, and as long as Crowley got his money, he wouldn’t care who was living in which unit.

Dean’s immediate reaction was a resounding no-- no way in hell he was sharing a room with Sam again. He’d rather work every minute of his day and at least have his own place to crash at the end of the night. But Sam, ever the reasonable one, pointed out that he would be going back to California at the end of August, right before the rent increase took place on the first day of September. 

“Dean, I won’t be back until Christmas,” he argued. “I’ll sleep on the couch, or we’ll buy an air mattress. Or I’ll stay with Jo and Ellen. I know you don’t want to think about me not being here as much, but it makes way more sense than finding some shitty two-bedroom somewhere else when I won’t even be here most of the year.”

Dean sighed and argued and rolled his eyes a lot, but in the end, he agreed. Sam was right. It made the most sense, and it helped Pamela out, and at least he would only have to move all his stuff three floors up. 

So now Dean was the proud renter of a one-bedroom apartment that looked pretty much the same as his old place, only slightly smaller, and Sam was back in Palo Alto, and Dean had nothing to do on his Sundays off except mope around and binge-watch TV shows that no one was even around to make fun of him for enjoying.

One weekend in early September, he decided he’d had enough. It was a beautiful day, just a hint of chill in the breeze, and he wanted a goddamn pumpkin spice latte. 

He sneered at the Starbucks as he passed, heading for his second-favourite cafe instead. Really, if he’d been smart, he would have done this the day before so he could have gone to his favourite place, but when was he ever that organized?

He walked in, smiling at the baristas, and waited to place his order. He looked around, wincing when he realized how many other people clearly had the same idea as him. The place was packed. 

Once he had his drink in hand, its delicious aroma wafting up towards him, he lingered near the counter, searching for a place to sit or someone who looked ready to leave. Optimistically, he’d asked for his drink in a mug instead of a to-go cup, and now he was starting to regret that decision.

Scanning the room once more, he didn’t see any empty tables, but he did see something else: a very familiar pair of blue eyes, locked onto his from across the room.

Really, it was surprising that he hadn’t run into Cas until now. He knew Sam had seen him a few weeks back, and when Sam got home he’d given Dean his best puppy-dog eyes and asked if he needed to talk, but Dean had brushed him off. 

Should he do the same now? Run away without acknowledging Cas’ presence? It would be pretty cold, considering the way Cas was looking at him with something like hope in his eyes, but what would be the point of going over to say hello? 

Dean didn’t move, still going over possible scenarios in his head, and the longer he stood there, frozen, the dimmer that hope in Cas’ eyes grew. Eventually, his shoulders slumped, and he looked down, defeated.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat, and before he could stop himself, he was making his way over to Cas’ table, resting one hand on the chair across from him. “Is this seat taken?”

Cas looked up at the sound of his voice, and his eyes widened. “Dean,” he breathed. “No, there’s no one sitting there. Please…”

He looked good, Dean noted. His tan had darkened like he’d been spending more time outside, and it made his eyes look even brighter. His hands were tightly clasped on the table in front of him like he was trying to stop himself from drumming them nervously. Or like he was trying to stop himself from reaching out to Dean.

“So, uh, how’ve you been?” he asked awkwardly. 

Cas smiled, a little rueful. “Do you want the honest answer to that question?”

“Probably not,” Dean agreed. He noticed that Cas had his laptop with him, and a thick leather-bound journal resting beside it. He nodded towards them. “What are you working on?”

He couldn’t tell if Cas was disappointed or relieved by the change of subject.

“It’s just something I’ve started, to pass the time,” Cas replied. 

“That doesn’t actually answer my question, you know.” Was he being too familiar? Did he have the right to gently tease Cas anymore? Oh well. Too late now.

Predictably, Cas scowled at him. “You’re going to laugh at me.”

“It’s a possibility, yes. But you should still tell me.”

“I started a book blog,” Cas mumbled. 

A blog? It actually made a lot of sense for Cas. He was always reading anyway, and it didn’t require in-person interaction with anyone, but it would still keep him busy. And if he was working on it here today, he probably did so on a regular basis, meaning that he wasn’t completely hidden away in his ugly-ass house all the time.

“That’s great, Cas,” Dean said, giving him an encouraging smile. “That sounds like a perfect hobby for you.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. What’s the blog called? I’ll look it up.” 

“ _Rich Boy Reads_ ,” Cas told him, sounding slightly embarrassed. “It was Balthazar’s suggestion, actually.”

“He told you to start a book blog?” Dean asked skeptically. He had to admit, the title was pretty funny.

For the first time since he sat down across from him, Cas smiled. Just slightly, but it was a smile nevertheless. “Well, he suggested that I find a hobby. His initial idea was croquet, if I remember correctly. I decided against the specific advice, but I took it in general.”

Dean snorted in amusement at the thought of Cas playing croquet. He was glad Balthazar was around to look after him, though. Part of him wanted to ask if the advice had been specifically intended as a way to get over Dean, or if it was just general life advice. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, though. Did he want Cas to be heartbroken? Or did he want him to be moving on with his life? Moving on without Dean?

“I’ll check it out,” Dean promised.

“Thank you.”

An awkward silence fell between them, and Dean took a sip of his latte to busy himself. He put the mug back down, and noticed Cas staring at him. At his mouth, more specifically.

“You’ve got a little…”Cas murmured, gesturing to his own mouth.

“Oh.” Dean grabbed a napkin from the table and hurriedly wiped his lips. “Better?”

“Yes.” But Cas was still looking at his mouth. His expression wasn’t lustful, though. Just kind of sad. 

“You’re not working today?” Cas asked after another minute. “Or are you going in later?”

Dean frowned at him for a second before realizing that the last time they spoke, he’d been planning on taking Sunday shifts at the club. “Oh, no, I’ve still got my days off,” he said. 

Cas frowned slightly. “But how are you-- I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”

If it had been idle curiosity on Cas’ part that drove him to ask that question, Dean probably wouldn’t have answered. But he could tell it was concern in Cas’ voice, and even though this whole stupid living situation was what caused their break-up in the first place, he found himself telling Cas the whole story.

“So now I’ve got a one-bedroom on the eleventh floor,” he finished, “and my schedule is still the same as before. Honestly, I kinda can’t believe it worked out as well as it did.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Cas told him. “So Sam’s gone back to school? You must miss him.”

Sam wasn’t the only person Dean missed, but he wisely refrained from mentioning that. “Yeah,” he said instead. “We Skype a lot, but he’s missed a few of our calls these past few weeks. For a girl, would you believe it.”

Cas shook his head. “How dare he.”

“Nah, I’m happy for him,” Dean said with a wave of his hand. “But we have to have a real conversation soon so I can get all the details.”

As if on cue, Cas’ phone rang, startling both of them. “Sorry,” Cas said, fumbling to grab it. He looked at the display, and though a slight smile crossed his lips, he declined the call, returning his attention to Dean.

“If you need to call them back, go for it,” Dean said.

“It’s fine. I can call Anna back later.”

Dean blinked at him, surprised. “Anna?” he asked. “Your sister Anna?”

“Yes,” Cas replied with a little laugh. “We’ve actually been talking more recently. We’re hoping to arrange a visit sometime soon.”

Dean felt his heart do a funny little flip in his chest. He was thrilled that Cas was finding new hobbies, solidifying relationships with other people, getting out of the house and figuring out how to spend his time in ways that mattered to him. But a small, stupid part of him wondered what that said about Dean, if it meant he’d never had that big of an impact on Cas’ life to begin with.

“That’s awesome,” he said earnestly. “Would you, uh, say hi to her for me? Tell her I’m sorry I don’t think we’ll get that next dance.”

A flash of something indecipherable passed over Cas’ face before he nodded. “Of course.”

Dean finished his latte and put the empty mug down on the table. “I should probably be heading home,” he said, even though there was no reason he couldn’t stay. There was nothing waiting for him back at his apartment.

“I apologize if I kept you from something,” Cas said quickly.

Was he fishing for information? Wanting to ask if Dean was seeing anyone new, but too afraid to say so directly? 

“No, not at all,” Dean assured him. “Umn.” He didn’t know what to do. Go for a hug? A handshake would be too formal. 

Cas solved the problem by looking at him for a brief but intense moment, then stepping forward and pressing a feather-light kiss to Dean’s cheek. “It was good to see you,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, you too,” Dean managed. “Bye, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.” 

Dean turned and forced himself to walk away, but he could feel Cas’ eyes on him the whole way out of the cafe. 

He drove home, cursing himself the entire way. Why couldn’t he just tell Cas how much he missed him? Was it pride, or stubbornness? Not wanting to admit he’d been too quick to throw their relationship away? Or that fear lurking in the back of his mind, the fear that Cas was better off without him, that he’d realized he was fine without Dean and wouldn’t want him back?

The only solution was to avoid thinking about it entirely. Much easier said than done, of course, but Dean had a few tricks up his sleeve. He turned the stereo on, changed into his rattiest old sweats, and set about cleaning the apartment from top to bottom.

It didn’t take that long, honestly, since Pamela had been a pretty tidy resident and Dean was hardly home enough these days to make much of a mess himself. But three hours later, the place was spotless, and Dean was exhausted. He ordered himself Chinese take-out as a treat, then took a quick shower while he waited for it to arrive.

He flipped through a magazine while he ate, and an ad for a new book caught his eye, reminding him what Cas had said about the blog he’d started. He had no other plans for the evening, so Dean went and retrieved his laptop and did a quick search for the page.

It was a simple, clean lay-out that suited Cas’ personality, and Dean took in the number of posts with surprise. Cas had certainly been busy if he’d only started this thing a few weeks ago. Rather than trying to read everything, Dean clicked the button for a random page.

He was impressed with what he found. Cas’ reviews were thoughtful, often snarky but always well-balanced. He even disobeyed the first rule of the Internet and read the comments, almost all of which were positive. He saw the way Cas interacted with his readers, enthusiastic and well-informed, and felt oddly proud of him. Apparently, he was pretty damn good at this blogging thing. 

The next review he found took him a bit by surprise. The book looked quite different from the others Cas had reviewed so far, and then that was pretty much the first thing Cas said about it. But what really stood out was the last paragraph, and one line in particular.

_There’s only one other thing--one other person-- in my life who’s taught me so much about love. I wish I could tell him to read this book and share his thoughts with me, but our story doesn’t have a happy ending. I hope, whoever you are, that yours does._

Dean stared at it for several minutes, putting the pieces together. Cas had to be talking about him, right? He wasn’t just being narcissistic? He checked the date of the entry, and then pulled up his message history with Cas on his phone. 

The last message he’d received from Cas was from the same date as that post. _I miss you._

Dean felt like he’d stumbled onto a secret he wasn’t supposed to know. But Cas had given him the website. He must have known there was a chance Dean would find this post. Maybe it was his way of reaching out to him, too scared to say the words out loud?

He clicked on the random button again, and it brought him to a page posted only a few hours before. Heart beating rapidly in his chest, Dean began to read.

_Just when you think a story is coming to its natural end, it can swerve off in another direction entirely. I told you before, I didn’t think my story with this person had a happy ending. I’m still not sure that it does, but I do know that it isn’t over. I saw him today, and I knew it would never be over, because he’ll always be in my heart and on my mind. We carry all the stories we’ve read with us for the rest of our lives, and they influence us in ways we might not even realize. I never would have predicted this, the moment I first saw him. I guess it just goes to show, no matter how many times you think you’ve read a love story, you don’t always know it when you’re in one._

Fuck. Dean raised a hand to his cheek and was surprised when it came away wet. Any doubts he had about Cas missing him were completely erased. And any doubts he had about his own feelings for Cas were gone as well. 

With shaking hands, he picked up his phone and called Cas.

“Dean?” Cas’ voice was hesitant, like he couldn’t believe this was real. And considering all the times Dean had let his messages go unanswered, he couldn’t really blame him. 

“Cas?” Dean croaked.

“Dean?” Cas’ tone changed to one of concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Dean replied, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “I just...can you come over?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and for a second, Dean wondered if he’d somehow got it all wrong.

“I’m on my way,” Cas said eventually. 

Dean exhaled shakily. “Okay. It’s apartment 1104, now.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Cas ended the call, leaving Dean staring at the phone like he thought Cas would call back and say he changed his mind. But after five minutes, it started to sink in that this was actually happening, meaning he had about fifteen more minutes before Cas arrived.

He hurried to put away the leftover Chinese food, then changed into jeans and a t-shirt rather than the sweats he had been lounging in. He inspected himself in the bathroom mirror, satisfied that he looked both reasonably good and also like he wasn’t trying too hard.

At least the apartment was already clean, so he didn’t have to worry about that. He paced nervously around the kitchen, glancing at the clock every few seconds, and then after what seemed like hours, there was a firm knock at the door.

Dean swallowed nervously, then pulled it open.

Cas’ hand was still raised from knocking, and he lowered it slowly as he looked over Dean like he was checking for signs of distress. 

“Hi,” Dean said. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Hi,” Castiel replied.

“Oh, sorry, come on in.” Dean stood back to allow Cas to enter, then led him into the living room. “It’s basically the same layout but without one of the bedrooms,” he explained. “And one yellow wall, because I haven’t gotten around to painting it yet.”

“I like the yellow,” Cas said. “It’s cheerful.”

“Yeah, that’s what Pamela said,” Dean chuckled.

“Pamela?” Castiel’s tone was neutral.

“The woman who switched apartments with me,” Dean explained. 

“Ah.” Cas went quiet for a minute, then finally looked up at Dean. “Dean, what am I doing here?” he asked bluntly.

Dean sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Sit down,” he instructed.

Cas took a seat on the couch and Dean joined him, sitting closer than he probably should have.

“I looked up your blog,” Dean said. There was no point trying to be evasive now.

“Oh,” Cas breathed. “I didn’t think you would really--” 

“It’s good, Cas. Really good.” Dean wanted to make sure Cas knew that before anything else. “I’m really proud of you, you know?”

“Thank you,” Cas replied. “It’s been nice, really. A way of forming connections, without going too quickly.”

“But there’s more to it than book reviews,” Dean continued.

Cas laughed, only slightly bitter. “Yes, well, I haven’t committed to a Twitter account yet, so I don’t have any other outlets for my feelings.”

“I’m glad you don’t,” Dean blurted out. “Shit. I just meant-- I’m glad you put them there. So I could find them.”

Cas just looked at him, impassive. Like he was holding back from reacting until he knew exactly what Dean was saying.

So that meant Dean should probably get his act together and make the big speech. Right.

“I miss you too,” he said. “God, Cas, I miss you so much. I’m sorry I never answered any of your messages, I just thought it would be easier if we both got some space, but it doesn’t look like it was easy on either of us, and I’m just really sorry, okay?”

“Thank you for saying that,” Cas said, and his voice sounded tight, “but Dean, please. You still haven’t answered my question: what am I doing here?”

Dean thought of all the times he’d pried an answer out of Cas and laughed to himself. He was such a hypocrite. 

He took a deep breath. “I want to get back together.”

Cas’ composure slipped just a little, just enough for Dean to glimpse the fear and hope buried beneath it. “Dean,” he said.

“Wait,” Dean said, holding up a hand to stop him. “Just let me finish, okay?”

Cas nodded, his eyes locked on Dean’s.

“It wasn’t fair, what I said to you. It was my own insecurities talking, and I should have given you a chance to talk things through with me instead of just breaking it off like that. I want to make this work, Cas. I think we’re both pretty goddamn stubborn, and if we both want it, we can make anything happen.”

Summoning all his courage, Dean reached out and took Cas’ hand. “Your post from today was beautiful,” he said. “And earlier, seeing you at the cafe, it just made me realize how miserable I’ve been without you. Things aren’t always going to be easy with us, I know that, but I don’t care. I just want you back.”

“I’m still going to screw up,” Cas said, but his hand held Dean’s tightly. “I’ll say insensitive things, or I’ll reveal my ignorance of how the world really works, or I’ll inadvertently make you feel guilty for working all the time, I know I will.”

“I don’t care,” Dean repeated. “We can deal with it. I’ll call you on your crap the same way I have since day one, Cas.”

Cas laughed, and Dean knew they were going to be okay. “You do have a tendency to do that,” he murmured. “And I missed it more than I ever could have imagined.”

Dean smiled at him. “Good,” he said. 

They just grinned at each other for a minute, and then Cas’ expression turned serious. “Dean,” he said slowly.

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Dean didn’t have the words to answer him. Instead, he lifted their joined hands and settled them on the side of his face as he nodded. Cas drew him forward, and their lips met.

It was slow, and sweet, and in that kiss Dean tasted all the longing they had both been feeling over the past weeks. He let out a little sigh and pulled Cas closer, burying his hands in his hair. Cas pressed forward eagerly and deepened the kiss, sliding one hand to the small of Dean’s back, a reassuring touch. 

Dean lost himself in Cas’ kisses, wondering how he ever thought he could go without them. He pulled back to catch his breath, and the look on Cas’ face made his heart turn over in his chest. He looked awestruck, entirely open and present in a way Dean had never seen from him before.

He knew this was the right choice for both of them. It might never be perfect by the world’s standards, but it was theirs, and that made it precious.

With that in mind, he climbed to his feet. “Come on,” he said.

Cas looked at him, then stood as well and followed Dean into the bedroom without saying a word.

Dean flicked on the lamp on his bedside table and turned back to face Cas, who was still watching him with that look of awe on his face. “We don’t have to…” he murmured.

“I want to,” Dean said firmly. “I told you, Cas. I want you. In every way.”

“You have me,” Cas replied hoarsely.

Dean smiled, his hands going to the hem of his t-shirt and slowly dragging it over his head. Cas watched raptly as Dean’s torso was bared to his gaze. Dean nodded at him. “Your turn.”

Cas slowly undid the buttons on his grey shirt, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. He slipped it off his shoulders, and Dean took a minute to admire their breadth and the long lines of his torso.

It had been too long since he felt Cas’ hands on his body. He dropped onto the bed and sent Cas his most inviting look. Cas practically tripped in his haste to join him, and Dean couldn’t help chuckling.

“You think that’s funny?” Cas said darkly, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“It’s a little funny,” Dean replied. Seeing Cas, the king of cool and collected, lose his balance like that was definitely amusing.

But when Cas settled above him, looming over Dean and looking down into his face, Dean suddenly didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “Hi,” he whispered breathlessly.

“Hello,” Cas replied. “God, Dean…” 

And then they were kissing again, Dean’s hands running all over Cas’ naked back, Cas shuddering beneath his touch and pressing his hips downwards so his lower body came into contact with Dean’s. It made them both groan, so he did it again. 

Cas was leaving a trail of kisses down the side of Dean’s neck, his mouth sloppy and uncoordinated, but it felt perfect. Dean threw his head back, exposing more skin for Cas to explore, already so strung-out and desperate he could hardly control himself.

“Need to feel you,” he gasped, tugging at Cas’ jeans. “Get these off.”

With a low moan, Cas pulled away long enough to rid himself of his jeans, the dark fabric of his underwear doing little to conceal the shape of his erection. His hands moved slowly over Dean’s chest and stomach until they rested at his waistband, and he looked up, waiting for Dean’s signal to proceed.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean sighed. “Go on.”

Cas pressed a kiss to Dean’s stomach as he gently unzipped his jeans and pulled them off his legs, smiling crookedly when he took in the red boxers Dean was wearing. “You’re incredible,” he said, his voice low. 

It wasn’t just his words that made Dean flush, but the way he looked when he said them: like he meant them in every possible sense, like Dean was the most important thing in the world. 

Never very good at handling such things, Dean tugged at Cas’ shoulders, pulling him back up for another kiss. When their hips rocked together with nothing but their underwear between them, he could feel the hard line of Cas’ erection sliding against his own, and he chased the friction with abandon.

“Let me take care of you,” Cas said, practically pleading. “Dean, I need--”

Dean nodded frantically. He really, really liked the sound of that. 

Cas slowly slid his boxers down, leaving Dean completely naked under his gaze. “Gorgeous,” he murmured, kissing him again. Then he continued to kiss a path down Dean’s chest and stomach, but despite Dean’s efforts to shift his hips up, he passed over his cock to press kisses into the soft skin of Dean’s thighs.

“Will you turn over?” Cas asked.

Oh, fuck. Dean knew what that meant, and _yes_. He rolled onto his hands and knees, trembling with anticipation.

He felt Cas run a gentle hand down his spine, then stroke softly over his entrance, just teasing. Dean groaned and arched into his touch, wanting more.

“Shh,” Cas said. “I’ve got you, Dean.”

Whatever reply Dean thought he would make was cut off as Cas slowly licked over his opening, unbearably tender. God, it had been a long time since anyone had done this for Dean, but he loved it. He could feel the faint scratch of Cas’ stubble as he pressed his face closer, only adding to the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

“Feels so good,” he managed to say as Cas continued to lick at him. He was leisurely about it, opening Dean up slowly, like they had all the time in the world, but Dean was growing increasingly needy, his cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs. 

Cas carefully worked a single finger inside Dean as he ate him out, and Dean moaned at the pressure, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Needed more. 

“Cas, please,” he said. 

He swore he could feel Cas smiling, though he didn’t stop his ministrations. The bed shifted slightly as Cas reached into the drawer of bedside table and found the bottle of lube and condoms Dean had stashed there. 

Cas’ mouth was gone from his entrance, but Dean could hardly complain when a second finger was pressing inside him and crooking at just the right angle to brush over his prostate. He gasped, his entire body thrumming with sensation, and pushed his hips back, driving Cas’ fingers in deeper.

Soon enough, Cas had three fingers inside him, and Dean was making noises that would be best described as whimpers as Cas covered his back with gentle kisses. “Need you now,” Dean said. “I’m ready.”

Cas’ hand withdrew, and then he was gently nudging at Dean until he rolled over again, looking up into his face. Cas’ cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright, and Dean could feel how hard he was, pressing up against his thigh. 

“Do you want--” Cas asked in a whisper, brushing his hand lightly between Dean’s legs.

“Want you inside me,” Dean murmured. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything more in his entire life.

Cas shuddered and he leaned down to place a kiss right in the centre of Dean’s chest as he balanced on one hand, using the other to drag his own underwear off his hips. Dean figured it was about time he took a more active role in this thing, and brought his own hands up to help steady Cas. The movement turned into a caress, running his hands across the sharp cut of those hips, and Cas smiled down at him.

Dean leaned forward and found the box of condoms, then tore one open and gently rolled it over Cas’ length, giving him a few extra strokes along the way, loving the noises it prompted from Cas. 

“Like this?” Cas asked, his eyes sweeping over Dean’s body where it was spread beneath him.

“Just like this,” Dean replied.He let his legs fall slightly further apart, giving Cas more space to settle between them, and then nodded up at him.

Carefully, Cas lined himself up and pushed forward steadily, sliding inside Dean’s body with ease. They both groaned as he bottomed out, pressed so tightly together that almost their entire bodies were in contact.

“Dean,” Cas sighed. “Oh, god, Dean, you feel so good.”

“Mmn,” Dean agreed, rolling his hips slightly, causing Cas to shift within him. “You too, babe.”

Cas pulled back slightly and then thrust forward again, quickly falling into a steady rhythm that had Dean moaning and gripping at his hips, trying to steady himself. Cas felt perfect inside him, and he looked even better, his hair a dishevelled mess and his lips swollen from Dean’s kisses. 

“I missed you so much,” Dean admitted, lost in the feeling of being so close to Cas again. “I’m so glad you’re here, Cas.”

“I’m sorry I ever let you walk away,” Cas replied, smoothing Dean’s hair off his forehead. How he managed to be so tender, Dean didn’t know. “You’re so good for me, Dean, you don’t even know.”

“I think I do,” Dean answered, tightening his grip on Cas’ hips and pulling him in deeper. 

They stopped speaking after that, too absorbed in the motion of their bodies and the steady stream of moans and gasps they were both making. Cas was moving faster now, and Dean had been on edge for what felt like hours. 

“Touch me,” he begged. “Cas, I need you to touch me.”

Cas pressed a kiss to his shoulder and wrapped one hand around his cock, still moving steadily inside him. Dean shuddered and let out a broken moan. Christ, that felt good.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned. He was so close.

“Let go for me, Dean,” Cas whispered. “Come on, sweetheart.”

With one last stroke, Dean was coming, pleasure racing through his entire body as his orgasm swept over him. Cas was staring down at him with a rapturous expression on his face, and Dean couldn’t help himself, pulling his face down for a deep kiss.

Cas’ thrusts were becoming less coordinated now, and Dean knew he must be getting close as well. “Come on,” he murmured, running his hands up and down Cas’ back. “Come for me.”

“Dean,” Cas sighed, and then with a particularly forceful snap of his hips, he shuddered and went still, his face going slack with pleasure. 

He was a heavy weight above Dean, but Dean didn’t mind. It only took a few seconds for Cas to recover himself and pull out and away from Dean, landing on the bed beside him with a sigh.

Dean reached out and found his hand, clasping it tightly in his own. “Hey,” he said.

Cas squeezed his hand. “Hey,” he replied. 

“I’m tired too, but if we go shower now, we can come right back to bed afterwards,” Dean suggested.

Rolling over to prop himself up on one elbow, Cas peered down into his face. “Alright,” he sighed.

Dean pulled himself out of the bed and hauled Cas up with him afterwards, then dragged them both into the shower to clean up. Cas recovered as they stood under the warm spray, kissing Dean with enthusiasm as they let their hands roam over each other’s bodies, less out of sexual intent than a simple desire to reassure themselves they were still here, still together. 

Cas was standing behind Dean, reaching up slightly to massage shampoo into his hair, and as he rinsed it out Dean let his head fall back onto Cas’ shoulder, twisting to look at him. “Will you stay tonight?” he asked. “I have to work in the morning, but…”

“Of course I’ll stay,” Cas answered easily. “We’re going to have to work with your schedule, I know, but there’s no way I’m letting you go tonight.”

Dean hummed happily as Cas placed a soft kiss on his forehead. After a final rinse, they dried each other off and got ready for bed, Dean lending Cas a pair of boxers to sleep in. They climbed back into bed, and Dean found himself yawning, though it wasn’t really all that late.

“Sleep,” Cas said softly, pulling Dean into his arms. “It’s been a long day.”

“Been a long month and half,” Dean grumbled.

Cas chuckled. “I know. But it’s only looking up from here, right?”

“Mmn-hmn,” Dean agreed. “I’m gonna make pancakes in the morning.”

“I like pancakes,” Cas said, turning on his side and pulling Dean with him so that Dean’s back was pressed against his chest. 

“Good.” Dean was already almost asleep, but before he drifted off completely, he had one last thing to say.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I’m still not moving into your giant soulless house. Just so we’re clear.”

Cas’ body shook with his laughter, and Dean joined him. “I would expect nothing less,” Cas replied. “We’ll figure all of that out, I promise.”

“And I’ll have to tell Sam we’re back together, again, I guess. He’ll be so happy, the dork.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You are the most generous, wonderful, beautiful person I have ever met, and I’m both shocked and thrilled that we’re here together right now. But for the love of God, stop worrying and go to sleep.”

Dean chuckled and wiggled into a more comfortable position. “Alright, Cas. Night.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean knew they still had a lot of stuff to work out. But there was also a lot to look forward to. Maybe Dean would figure out the password for Cas’ blog and write a guest post, or start getting into arguments with his commenters. Maybe Cas would come visit him at the club more frequently, offering snarky remarks in between sets. Maybe Sam would come for a visit and bring this girl he was always going on about, and they could all go out for dinner together. 

Whatever the future held, Dean knew it would include a lot more nights like this, and that was good enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ENDINGS ARE HARD. I hope this was satisfying! Thank you for joining me on this little adventure, and I've really enjoyed hearing from all of you along the way!


End file.
